Triwizard Tournaments and Treble Clefs
by estrafalaria103
Summary: Kurt is ecstatic to return for his fifth year at Hogwarts. But with a suspicious Zabini around, a Triwizard Tournament, and a newcomer who seems too good to be true, this may not be the magical year he'd been looking forward to. Klaine / Finchel
1. Diagon Alley

13:57

**A/N: Okay, I really, really shouldn't be writing this right now. Exams start next week, and I haven't finished Building Bridges and. . .I'm so sorry. Unfortunately, this story bit me in the ass and just won't let go. So, I hope you enjoy!**

To say that Kurt Hummel was excited that summer was ending would be an understatement.

He was freaking ecstatic.

Sure, he might be the only kid in the entire world who would rather be in school than enjoy the freedom of the summer, but that's just the way things were. Summer stunk. Summer meant long days stuck sweating in his father's mechanic shop, wearing horrid coveralls and smelling like oil and dirt. Not that Kurt minded working on the cars. . .not exactly. It was fine every once and while, but he simply didn't understand how anyone could stand the dirt and the grime all the time.

Summer meant spending every meal eating with his dad, Carole, and Finn, instead of all his friends at long tables, lit by floating candles. It meant that instead of course upon course of delicious (and often healthy) options, he was forced to eat pot roast, and macaroni and cheese, and hot dogs. It was disgusting.

Summer meant doing everything by hand, the Muggle way. It meant tying his own shoes, an walking to the closet to pick out his outfits, and having to spend hours on his hair, instead of just magicking it perfect. It meant learning to drive, since he wasn't allowed to Apparate around, and it meant standing up to all the homophobic brutes in his hometown with just his wits and quick feet.

Summer meant having to spend far more time with Finn than he'd really like. It meant hours of playing Call of Duty when he'd rather be shopping, and trying to make awkward conversation with someone who shared none of his own interests.

Summer meant no time spent with Mercedes, or Artie, or any of his other friends.

Worst of all, summer meant no Blaine Anderson.

When the owls came in August, Kurt snatched his letter immediately, and clutches it to his chest, whispering out a low "hallelujah, thanks be to Dumbledore." Finn just moaned and rolled his eyes. Carole had to eventually grab his list of books for him. The boy just clunked his head on the table.

"You have to go to school," Carole admonished, shoving the thin parchment under her son's fingers. Finn muttered something about football, and Puck, and popsicles Kurt just rolled his eyes, and began scanning his own letter.

He was pleased to see that he'd gotten every class that he'd requested. No Muggle Studies this year, thank Dumbledore. He didn't think he could take any more of Professor Sylvester's racist rants. Besides, his dad was a Muggle, and he'd spent eleven years of his life (and an additional four miserable summers) completely immersed in the Muggle world. He hardly needed to learn a perverted version of history and custom from a pureblood.

He'd also managed to avoid Care of Magical Creatures, thank goodness. He liked Hagrid well enough, but he really hated having to tromp out to the cottage, where there was dirt, and insects, and inevitably some massive monster sneezed on him, completely destroying a prized scarf or brooch. He could do quite well with his canary, thank you very much. Pavarotti might not be as majestic as an owl, and he wasn't very good at carrying large letters, but Kurt was okay with that. It meant he never got a Howler.

He still had Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, Charms, and Ancient Runes. Kurt firmly believed in getting a good, well-balanced education, especially since he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do after graduation. Finn seemed pretty set on being a famous Quidditch player (Kurt secretly doubted that the other boy had the talent. The Hufflepuff team hadn't won the House Cup since the years that Cedric Diggory had gone to Hogwarts). Most of Kurt's other friends knew what they wanted to do as well. But Kurt had diverse interests, and he certainly wasn't going to limit his future options.

And lastly, he had Magical Lyricism. His absolute favorite class in the entire world. Well, sometimes his favorite class in the entire world. Last year hadn't been so great, what with stupid Rachel Berry beating everyone out. But Kurt had finally succeeded in shattering class with a High F, so he was pretty sure that he might be top-ranked in the course this year.

Just that one year was bad, though. Other than that, his first three years had been phenomenal. The professor was a little on the wonky side, and it usually got mocked for being a pansy course, but it meant singing and magic, which were the two things that Kurt loved most in the world.

And, in the first three years, he'd had Blaine in his class. Which meant the three things he loved most in the world.

Oh, yeah, his dad was okay, too.

Kurt leaned over, and pulled Finn's booklist out from under his fingers. As usual, Finn was taking the easiest courses that he could. Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology (because Professor Longbottom was enthusiastic, but hardly demanding), Quidditch, Magical Lyricism and. . .

"History of Magic?" Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow. "Really, Finn? You only passed last year because I wrote your essay for you."

"Duh," Finn said into the table. "I kind of figured that you could do it again."

Carole rolled her eyes and went to clear the dishes. Kurt sighed, and smoothed his hair back away fro his face.

"Really, Finn?" Kurt asked drolly. "And what do I get out of that?"

"Um. . ." Finn considered for a long minute. "Well, you get into the Hufflepuff common room when you tutor me."

"How is that a benefit?" Not that the Hufflepuff common room was shabby. It was just identical to the Gryffindor's own, except with yellow and black hangings in place of crimson and gold. Admittedly, Kurt was a fan of the décor – he'd never particularly appreciated all the suits of armor that clanked around in Gryffindor – but it hardly made up for the hours of work he had to do writing Finn's essay, and then going back through and adding sufficient spelling and grammar mistakes to trick Professor Binns into thinking Finn had actually written it.

"Not the room," Finn said. "Who's _in_ it."

Kurt was pretty sure that his face instantly turned bright red. It felt that way anyway. He crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said archly.

Was he really that obvious? If Finn knew he had a crush on Blaine (and Finn really had to be the single most oblivious boy in the entire school) then everyone must know. How humiliating.

"The picture of Cedric Diggory that hangs over the mantle," Finn said. "I've seen you staring at it. Don't pretend."

Well. That was okay, then. After all, Kurt had several autobiographies of the hero, and had never been shy about his appreciation for the boys dashing good looks. He had to admit, though, that Finn had a valid point. Not about Cedric, but about the intangible benefits of the Hufflepuff house.

"Okay, fine," Kurt said. "I'll help you pass. But you have to promise to go shopping with me for dress robes before the Yule Ball."

Finn groaned.

Xxx

Burt only gave them three hours in Diagon Alley, which was ridiculously short, in Kurt's opinon. It was only enough time to run to Blourish and Blott's for their supplies, and to get traditional robes done up. Kurt had been hoping for a more leisurely stroll, but Finn was practically giddy with excitement.

"No shopping!" he said, hopping up and down. "no shopping!"

"Shut up," Kurt said. "You're acting like a child."

Still, his spirits couldn't help but be lifted as they stepped out from the FLoo Network and into the bustle of Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards darted all over, dressed in the most amazing array of fashion from around the world. Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, and just allowed the smells and sounds to wash over him.

"I'll get your books if you get the robes," Finn said, grabbing at Kurt's book list.

"Absolutely not," Kurt seethed. "If you arne't properly measured, then your robes won't be adequately tailored. I refuse to be related – even if only by Muggle law – to someone who dresses like a Neanderthal."

"But Kurt. . ." Finn whined, pouting with all his worth and opening up his brown eyes as wide as they would go. Kurt stood firm, however. He did have standards, after all.

Everything worked out all right, since it turned out that Sam Evans was being measured by the time they got to Madame Malkin's. Finn happily clambered over to his friend, and they were soon happily talking about sports, and Quidditch, and how much they really didn't want to go back to school. Kurt sighed. Boys.

Sam followed them out after, still chattering away. Kurt snuck a glance out of the side of his eye. Sam was looking good. . .really good. He'd grown a bit, over the summer, and obviously spent a lot of time outside. His hair was bleached a soft, wheat blond, and his skin absolutely _glowed_. Kurt had to blink a few times, because he was pretty sure that he'd never seen anything quite that beautiful.

"No way!" Finn exclaimed suddenly, looking at something just over Kurt's shoulder. "Anderson! What's up!"

Kurt's heart stopped. It literally stopped in his chest, and he suddenly found that he couldn't turn around. I looked suspiciously at Finn's hand, expecting to see the other boy holding a wand, having just completed a full body-bind. Which, admittedly, was ridiculous, because Finn sucked at Charms, and was absolutely incapable of doing wordless magic. Still.

Sam was grinning, too, and the two boys circled around Kurt. He sighed, and turned around.

Sam was beautiful, but Blaine Anderson was, quite simply, a god. Kurt knew that his mouth was hanging open a little, and he knew that his eyes were probably a bit glassy, and he knew that his cheeks must be burning pink, but really. . .

Because the summer had been very, very good to Blaine, too. He hadn't grown at all –he was still a few inches shorter than Kurt – but his hair had light brown streaks running through it, and there were little crinkle lines around his eyes, where the sun hadn't tanned him as deeply, and there were freckles splayed across his nose, and his lashes were longer and darker than ever, and his hazel eyes were more green than brown in the bright afternoon sunlight and

"Kurt?" Finn was snapping his fingers worriedly. "Kurt? You okay?"

"What?" Kurt shook his head, horribly embarrassed. All three boys were staring at him like he was some kind of bizarre specimen in the zoo. "Yes, I'm fine."

"What were you staring at?" Sam asked. "You just kind of zoned out."

Um. . .Kurt tried to find something to explain his bizarre focus. There! Perfect! He reached out and grabbed the pink sunglasses perched on top of Blaine's immaculately styled hair. "These!" he said, shaking them with pretend ire. "I can't believe you left the house with these on your face, Blaine. These are an affront to fashion everywhere!"

Sam laughed a little at that, and clapped a friendly hand on Finn's shoulder. "Dude," He said. "Your little brother's hilarious."

"He's not my little brother," Finn said. "I mean. . .he kind of is. But. . ."

Blaine just grinned, and snatched the sunglasses back, perching them proudly on his nose. "Say what you will about fashion, Kurt," he said. "But I look pretty fine in these glasses."

Well. . .Kurt couldn't really argue with that.

"Wanna head to over to Weasley's?" Finn asked. "We've still got fifteen minutes before Burt expects us back."

"Sure," Blaine shrugged his shoulders. "I got my books and robes all ready, I'm set." Sam likewise agreed, and the boys turned to head off. Finn glanced back over his shoulder.

"Kurt? You want to come with?"

Oh, the many, many ways that Kurt could have answered that. But for once, his mind won out, and he shook his head. "No thanks. I said I'd meet up with Mercedes before the day's through. She's picking out a new owl."

"Fantastic!" Blaine said, overly enthuasiastic. "Say hi for me."

"Of course," Kurt said.

It wasn't until the boys had rounded the corner that Kurt realized he hadn't even asked if Blaine was taking Magical Lyricism.

Xxx

"Hey, white boy!"

The minute he walked in the owlery, arms were thrown around him, and he was abruptly enclosed in all the warmth and joy that was Mercedes Jones. He laughed a little, and pulled back.

"Wow, I know I'm fabulous, but what was that for?"

"Just happy to see you, boo!" Mercedes giggled, drawing away. "Have a good summer?"

"Do I ever?" Kurt asked wryly. "Seriously, now, what's got you so excited?"

Mercedes glanced around, as though making sure that nobody was listening to her, before leaning in. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Mercedes, I'm a gay wizard who lives with Muggles. What do you think?"

She laughed again. "Okay then. My dad was talking on the fellytone the other night with his Muggle contact from the Ministry. And he was talking about accommodations for flying Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students to Hogwarts."

Kurt considered. That was a pretty exciting prospect. He tried to remember whether it had been ten years since the last Triwizard Tournament, and decided that it must have been. Well, that would be exciting. It still didn't explain why Mercedes looked like she was going to pee her zebra-striped pants, though.

"Boys, Kurt!" she finally said, rolling her eyes. "It means fresh meat. And you _know_ who goes to Durmstrang, right?"

Kurt tried to remember if he'd met someone. The Bulgarian school was mostly known for turning out incredibly talented Quidditch players, but that really wasn't Kurt's thing. Mercedes, obviously impatient, just grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Before Kurt even had time to get out a strangled "my hair!" Mercedes shouted,

"Jesse st. James!"

Kurt's heart stopped for the second time that day. Jesse st. James? _The_ Jesse st. James? "The rock star?" he finally managed to squeak out.

The smile on Mercedes face was all that he needed to confirm that thought.

Xxx

Kurt hated Platform 9¾. Really, seriously hated it. It was crowded, and noisy, and there were always too many people. It smelled like smoke and curry, and he always felt a little grimy walking through it. On the other hand, he absolutely loved the Hogwarts Express.

Yeah, it was a problem.

Finn, on the other hand, never seemed to notice the crowds, or the smells, or the noises. He just barreled through like a puppy, calling out to other students that he saw, whether they went to Hogwarts or were just innocent Muggles. And he always barreled through the brick wall without saying a word to Carole. Which inevitably meant that Kurt had to go fetch him back, so that he could give his mom a proper kiss on the cheek and good-bye.

Yeah, it was a problem.

The first day of his fifth year was no different. Kurt just tried to huddle into himself and make it through with as little problem as possible. Finn barreled. For once, Burt managed to grab his stepson's arm before Finn could dash away, however. Carole gave them both a hug, and a kiss, and then they were finally, _finally_ allowed to walk through the wall.

Everything was, if possible, even more chaotic on the other side. There were frogs hopping away, and first years crying about their what House they would be sorted into, and inevitably Percy Weasley was wandering around yelling about _something_. Kurt thought he saw a patch of red hair walking toward him, and he kind of panicked.

"See you on the train!" he yelled at Finn, before dashing aboard the express. Because he liked the Weasley clan well enough – in addition to being war heroes, they were kind of a Hogwarts staple – but they were always loud and obnoxious, and one of them _always_ ruffled his hair. It wasn't a big deal when they were in Hogwarts – he could just magic it back to perfection – but when they were still in regular England that wasn't an option.

The train was quiet, at least. Most of the students were still outside saying good-bye. Kurt figured that it was the perfect opportunity to find himself an empty compartment. He chose the one he and his friends always sat in, third from the last, on the left hand side. He slid in, and settled onto a seat with a sigh. He was almost on the way back to school, and he felt better for the first time in _months_. Thank Dumbledore that summer was over.

"I see how it is," a shrill voice interrupted his thoughts, and Kurt froze. Oh no. He hadn't. Oh no. "Three months apart and I don't even warrant the courtesy of a proper greeting? Really, Kurt, I recognize that I may be your greatest competition, but I thought that you had some understanding of etiquette and proper breeding."

"Hello, Rachel," Kurt said, turning around and plastering a smile on his face. "I didn't notice you there."

"Is you making fun of my height?" she asked, looking suspicious. Kurt just rolled his eyes.

"How was your summer?"

"Superlative, thank you for asking," Rachel said. It must have been the right comment, because then she was off, talking incessantly about whatever ridiculous shenanigans she'd been up to over their months off. Kurt had no doubt that most of them were made up.

The other students were slowly trickling in, bit by bit, and soon their compartment was full. Mercedes joined them, of course, And Tina, Artie, and Mike from Ravenclaw. Tina and Mike were holding hands, which was. . .new. Kurt certain that Tina had been dating Artie at the end of the year. None of them seemed awkward about it, and they all shared stories about the summer.

It seemed like Kurt was the only one who'd had a miserable time, but that was all right, because they were back to school, and the worst was behind them.

Plus, Jesse st. James might be coming to their school.

Yes, Kurt thought, with no small amount of satisfaction, it was going to be a totally awesome year.

**A/N: So, the Golden Trio in this story is basically Rachel/Mercedes/Kurt. Interesting. . .but don't worry, there will still be plenty of all our favorite characters! Except Puck. Because Puck is a Muggle. Sorry, Puck, there's just nowhere you fit in, and you are too much made of awesome for me to throw you in without anything to do. Maybe I'll fit him in eventually.**


	2. Love Spells

13:57

**A/N: Chapter two! Thanks for the favorites and the alerts. . .and just for reading, for that matter! I am also mildly disturbed by how this fic ended up with the Gryffindors being losers and the Hufflepuffs being awesomesauce. Interesting. . .**

The best thing about the Sorting is the food. Kurt's pretty sure that he's not the only one who thinks so, not based on the way Mercedes is eagerly clutching her fork, or the way he can see Finn's head swiveling around, looking for the House Elves who will eventually carry the food in. Kurt is far from a pig, but he loves how fresh the greens always are, and the way the water tastes like it's taken directly from mountain snow. Which, this being Hogwarts, it might be.

Watching the first years get sorted into houses. . .Kurt doesn't get that so much. Which puts him in the minority, he knows, since everyone else is excited to know who will be the new blood. Then again, Kurt just doesn't buy the whole house system. After all, some of his best friends are in Ravenclaw, and his frenemy is a Slytherin, and Hufflepuff gets all the hotties. . .

Right. Focus. He's brought his attention back just in time, it turns out, as food suddenly starts winking into existence. Kurt has learned, after several years of living with Finn Hudson, that it is best not to look at the other boy when food is present. It's a sickening sight, how much Finn can fit in his mouth. Not that any of the other boys are any better.

Kurt sighs, and happily helps himself to a large salad. Beside him, Mercedes is wearing a wide smile as she shovels tots onto her plate, heaping them atop treacle tart and who knows what else.

Kurt loves his best friend, but sometimes he just doesn't understand her.

He's just about finished his salad when Figgins stands up, and heads over to the podium. Usually Kurt ignores the Headmaster's speeches. . .they're usually culturally illiterate and practically impossible to understand, anyway. . .but remembering what Mercedes had told him earlier, he's actually interested.

"Excuse me. . .excuse me, is this. . .oh," Figgins said all of this in his traditional, monotone voice. Mercedes giggled, and Kurt felt obliged to elbow her in the side, even though he couldn't quite restrain his own smile. "Right. A few announcements before you all get off to bed – no shenanigans, Weasleys!" at this, Rose Weasley rolled her eyes, while Hugo just shrugged. "The first announcement. . .the Quidditch pitch is currently being repaired. There will be no Quidditch for the next week. Second, we have a new teacher joining us to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. . .Holly Holliday. And third, I am very proud to announce that this year will be a Triwizard Tournament. So start practicing your spells. . .I want Hogwarts to come out first! That is all."

There's a sound of feedback as Figgins sticks his wand back in his pants (so not a euphemism, Kurt reminds his own brain).

"Triwizard Tournament. . ." James Potter leans back in his chair and whistles. "That sounds kind of awesome. Who's going to enter their names?"

Kurt and Mercedes glance at one another, and instantly break into loud, raucous laughter. The thought of either of them submitting a name is just ridiculous. Trying to get a solo in the Yule Ball performance, sure. Trying to get a spot in a tournament that's likely to make you end up in the hospital, or is _certain_ to ruin a good hair day? Not hardly.

"I think I'll enter. . ." James muses, and now, the little smidgeon of interest that Kurt had been entertaining is gone. Because there's no way James won't be chosen. He's confident, talented (beautiful! The ever observant gay portion of his brain chimes in) and he's the son of the famous Harry Potter. And besides James, there are plenty of other more qualified wizards and witches. Artie, for instant, who's easily the brightest wizard of their class. Or. . .

His eyes slide, almost against his volition over to the Hufflepuff table, where he notices dancing hazel eyes. He coughs. Right. Point being that there are plenty of more qualified witches and wizards.

That night, though, while lounging in front of the fire in the common room, Mercedes came up to him, and laid down at his feet. "So. . ." she said slowly. "I've been thinking about this tournament. . .are you sure you don't want to enter?"

Kurt snorts. "Mercedes, do you remember what happened at the last tournament? All of the Champions ended up in the hospital, and it ended in a draw. I'm pretty sure I don't want to enter."

"Yeah," Mercedes said with a sigh, stretching her arms out over her head. "But it would be kind of nice. . .eternal glory, and all that."

Kurt reached down and grabbed his best friends hand. "Please, Mercedes, you'll have eternal glory anyway, after you drop your first single and start touring the world as the greatest Witch Diva ever." Mercedes giggled at that.

James poked his head out from the boys' dormitory. "Oy! Curfew!" he yelled. "We don't want any babies being made in the Gryffindor common room!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, and Mercedes pat his hand gently. "Maybe you should come out," she said. Kurt shook his head.

"Boo, I think it's pretty obvious. I make enough of a spectacle as it is. If they're too dumb to see the rather obvious signs. . ."

Mercedes shrugged. "Okay," she said. "Maybe if you wore the boa _with_ the kilt they'd catch on."

"Protection!" James yelled.

Xxx

Kurt was practically bouncing on his feet. It was the first day of Magical Lyricism, and Professor Schuester was late. Not a surprise, really, since Mr. Schuester was almost always late, but still. The room had divided among its normal lines, with all the girls on one side, all the boys on the other, and Kurt bridging the gap. He tried to focus on the story Tina was telling him. . .something about Mike's abs. And normally, anything to do with a boy's abs would have Kurt's full attention, but Finn and Sam had already come in. . .without Blaine.

Here's the thing that has to be understood: Kurt is not a stalker. He is not, in fact, obsessed with Blaine. He has a little, itty bitty crush, that just might have started when they first met on the train, his very first year. He didn't picture their future together, and he definitely didn't name their future children. After he got used to being at Hogwarts again, to seeing the other boy every day, the rush of feelings would gradually subside and he would return to being a normal, hormonal gay teenager that wanted to jump every mildly attractive boy that walked by.

But the only way he could get over the rush of seeing Blaine again after three long, long months without any contact, was to have a class with him. And since Blaine was in a different house _and_ a different year, the only time that their paths intersected was in Magical Lyricism. So he needed Blaine to be in the class.

Also, Blaine was a good singer. Which wasn't the point of the class, exactly, but it sure didn't hurt.

"And that," Tina said proudly. "Is why I dumped Artie for Mike."

"Good for you, girl," Mercedes said. "Don't you think so, Kurt?"

"I. . .uh, yeah. Sure."

Okay, so he wasn't doing such a hot job pretending to pay attention.

"Hey," Rachel said, as though just realizing something. "Where's Blaine? As I recall, he was the only male vocal with talent enough to challenge me to reach new heights. He didn't drop out, did he?"

All of the other girls shrugged, and Kurt joined in. Rachel frowned, and narrowed her eyes, before flouncing across the room.

"Excuse me," she said. Kurt glanced over. She was talking to Finn, and he remembered, with a sudden drop in his stomach, the hopeless crush that she had on his stepbrother. The degree of pathetic that he was when it came to Blaine? Multiply that by 700,000 and throw in a Bat-Bogey Hex and that was Rachel Berry when it came to Finn Hudson. "Excuse me, Finn. Where is Blaine?"

"I don't know," Finn said, sounding surprised. He glanced around, as if just noticing for the first time that one of his two best friends wasn't there. "He was right behind us."

Rachel raised one eyebrow, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot.

"Seriously," Sam said, backing the other boy up. "We were walking over here from Hagrid's."

"Well," Rachel said with a sniff. "You should really work at keeping a better grip on your more talented counterparts." With that she flounced over and sat down beside the other girls, though her face looked worried. She needn't have worried, though, for less than a minute later Blaine walked through the door, looking a little harried. Professor Schuester was less than a step behind him.

"Hey, guys!" Professor Schuester said, waving energetically. "Hope that everyone had a terrific summer, and is ready to get back to some magical, musical learning!" Professor Schuester could be horribly corny at times, but that didn't keep a wide smile from painting itself across his face. "I've got a great lesson for today. In fact, I was just talking to Blaine about it on the way in. Pretty great, right?"

Blaine smiled, all even teeth and dapper charm. "Absolutely, sir," he said.

"Great. Now then, you're all immensely talented in here. . ." As Professor Schuester began to speak, Rachel preened, and Kurt promptly lost interest. The professor unfailingly wrote the theme of the lesson on the whiteboard, anyway, so he really only had to tune in at the end.

"Outside of love potions, there's only one other way to make people fall in love," Professor Schuester said.

"Show them your abs?" Mike asked.

"Garner sympathy with your physical deformity?" Artie suggested.

"Amaze them with the power of your voice?" Rachel piped in.

"Um. . .yes. That one," Professor Schuester said, a little uncertainly, pointing his wand in Rachel's direction. "The power of the ballad. Now, you sixth years will remember that we did this last year, with joy. Imparting joy through performance, but this year we're going to ramp it up."

Rachel's hand immediately shot into the air. "Professor Schuester, although this sounds like an interesting and educational lesson, mightn't it be a bit inappropriate for you to cause a student to fall in love with you by the power of demonstration?"

Everyone stared at her for a long, long moment. Kurt wondered what school she'd been going to for the past five years, that she wasn't used to professor's doing all kinds of horribly inappropriate things to better "teach" their students. Professor Schuester shook off his surprise, however, and smiled.

"Maybe," he admitted. "Which is why I was going to have one of our most talented students attempt it."

Rachel began preening again, and Kurt rolled his eyes. She was only a fifth year, and hadn't even learned the joy lesson. There was no way he was going to call on her.

Sure enough, it was Blaine who was called to the front of the room. He just shrugged, a little abashed, when Finn and Sam began wolf-whistling. Kurt just sat back in his chair, and clapped his hands atop his thighs. He was certain that this would be a very enjoyable lesson.

"Now, let's see," Professor Schuester glanced at everyone in the room. "To really demonstrate the power of this song, we need to have you sing to someone who absolutely and positively does not love you. Does anyone here not love Blaine at all?"

Finn's hand instantly rose into the air, and Professor Schuester sighed.

"Even as a friend, Finn. Even if you just love him as a friend, keep your hand down."

There was a strange, tickling feeling in Kurt's stomach. What did he do? If he raised his hand he was saying that he didn't care, but if he kept it down he was implying. . .luckily his problem was solved when Mike Chang raised his hand.

"No offense," he told Blaine ("none taken," was the response) "but I don't really know you."

"Perfect!" Professor Schue grabbed Blaine's hand, and positioned it so that he was pointing at Mike. "Now then, you're going to maintain eye contact with him for the entire song. Keep your wand focused on him, and think only of love."

"All right," Blaine said, and he actually sounded a little nervous. "But, um. . .I've never actually been in love, so. . ."

"Not a problem," Professor Schuester said. "Just think of things you love, or people you love. It doesn't have to be romantic. Just let the song, and your voice, do all the work."

Blaine took a deep breath, and Kurt leaned forward in anticipation.

_"Before you met me, I was all right_

_ But things were kind of heavy, you brought me to life_

_ Now every February, you'll be my valentine. Valentine_."

The effect was almost instantaneous. Before Blaine had even finished the first verse, Mike was leaning forward, his eyes practically transformed into the shape of hearts, his mouth hanging slightly open. Blaine smiled, obviously pleased with his success, and for a moment glanced over at Finn and Sam before returning his gaze to Mike.

_"Lets go all the way tonight_

_ No regrets, just love_

_ We can dance until we die_

_ You and I, we'll be young forever_"

Blaine was getting into the song now, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, snapping his fingers. Mike's head was tilted as he stared at the other boy dreamily, and now Finn and Sam both had flushed cheeks. Blaine turned and captured Kurt's eyes. He didn't even have to open his mouth, and Kurt was under his spell.

Although, Kurt acknowledged, he'd been under the other boys spell since that day on the Hogwarts Express.

"_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream_

_ The way you turn me on, I can't sleep_

_ Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back_"

Tina, apropos of nothing, began to cry. Artie placed a hand over his heart and began to breath in light, fast pants. Rachel began fanning herself, and Mercedes began biting her nails, looking horribly excited. Blaine's grin just grew.

Ngah, Kurt thought, a little unintelligibly.

_"We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach_

_ Got a motel room, built a fort out of sheets_

_ I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece_

_ I'm complete_"

He finished that last verse staring straight into Kurt's eyes. The world suddenly went grey and fuzzy. He was pretty sure that his feet were moving, but he couldn't feel them. All that he could see, in a swirling tunnel of light, was Blaine's face. Those dark eyelashes, those full, full lips. . .

The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. A ring of worried faces encircled him.

"Oh my God," Blaine breathed. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. . ."

"Give him space," Professor Schuester ordered, and everyone backed up, except Mercedes, who helped him to a sitting position. Kurt put a hand to his head, which was ringing more than just a little.

"What happened?" He asked. Blaine and Professor Schuester shared a guilty, nervous look.

"Blaine is. . .uh. . .more talented than anticipated," Professor Schuester said. "He didn't even get to the end of the second verse and every one of you was totally under his spell."

"Dude, so not true!" Finn protested. Mercedes shot him a sassy look.

"White boy, you were about ready to punch Kurt when they kissed."

Wait. . .they _kissed_?

They kissed and he _missed it_?

His life really sucked sometimes.

"Blaine, I am so, so sorry," he said, turning to stare at the other boy (correction: the love of his life) with wide eyes. "I didn't mean to. . ."

"Hey," Blaine said, comfortingly. "It wasn't your fault. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

"Actually," Rachel said spitefully. "If it's anybody's fault, it's Professor Schuester's. He's the educational supervisor in this room, and should be carefully planning his lessons to result in optimal educational impact, rather than emotional destabilization."

"She's right," Professor Schuester said with a sigh. "I'll have to be more careful in the future. Blaine, I'm sorry, I forgot how talented you are."

Blaine blushed a little at that. Rachel just rolled her eyes.

"Okay, then," Professor Schuester said. "I think that's enough for today. Class dismissed."

Kurt stayed sitting on the floor, and just watched as Finn, Sam, and Blaine walked out together, the two taller boys mocking the other for having so many people in love with him. Mercedes pulled at his arm, but he didn't quite feel like moving yet.

"Um. . .Professor Schuester," she said slowly. "I'm not sure you quite took all the spell off of Kurt."

That got him up quickly. He grabbed his best friend's sleeve and practically dragged her out of the room. He definitely did _not_ need to hear his teacher's response to that accusation.

**A/N: Oh, Kurt, hopelessly pining. Oh, Rachel, always sticking her nose in everything. Oh, Mr. Schuester, always such a bad teacher. Oh, Blaine, always so dapper. Oh, Fainam friendship, always so awesome. Next chapter: Blaine. . .gay or straight? Also, enter DADA, the Goblet of Fire and. . .Beauxbatons and Durmstang! Huzzah!**


	3. Exchange Students

13:57

**A/N: Enter. . .Jesse st. James! Who, despite not having been around for ANY of season 2, has somehow, inexplicably, become my favorite character. Weird. . .**

Kurt was a little wary when he walks into Defense Against the Dark Arts for the first time. He hadn't originally signed up for the class – there was a long history of psychotic teachers, werewolves, etc. etc. teaching – but when he'd seen the unthreatening-looking blond woman who was in charge, he'd figured that he might as well give it a shot.

He wasn't so sure that was the best decision, when he walked in only to see a figure clothed entirely in black at the front of the room. It didn't help that the class was shared with Slytherin. Though Kurt couldn't care less about the House cup, everybody else quite obviously did, and the biggest rivalry was still between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Which was made even more ridiculous by the fact that Ravenclaw had won for the last four years.

Anyway. Beside the point. Because the point, of course, was that there was a seriously deluded woman standing in front of their class, dressed like a dementor. At least Kurt _thought_ that's what she was trying to dress as. He hoped she wasn't trying to be chic, because bitch, please.

"That's our teacher?" Rachel asks, her nose in the air as usual. "She certainly is dressed. . .in an interesting manner."

"Lay off, Rachel," Mercedes said. "You've been in a snit all day. Get over yourself."

"Just because you don't understand the pressures of being a star doesn't mean. . ."

"She's right," Kurt butted in. "You've really been insufferable. Even for you. What's going on?"

Rachel leaned over, looking as though she were ready to tell the biggest secret ever, when Holly Holliday suddenly yelled

"BOO!"

Kurt jerked back in his seat. He shouldn't have been so terrified, he really shouldn't, but it was a bit unexpected. Professor Holliday cackled a little at the looks on everyone's faces.

"Wow," she said, "if that scared you, I hate to think what would happen if you saw a real dementor. You'd probably all wet your pants."

"That's disgusting," little Sunshine Corazon said. Kurt lifted an eyebrow as Rachel glared at the other girl. Rumor was that Sunshine wasn't in Musical Lyricism this year due entirely to some kind of tiff she and Rachel had gotten into over the summer. Kurt wondered who had won. Sure, Rachel was in the class, but he'd always assumed that Sunshine was the scrappier of the two.

"Anyway," Professor Holliday said. "Today we're going to learn about Dementors. I hear that this wasn't covered in your earlier curriculum?"

It took less than a second for Rachel's hand to be raised high in the air.

"Yes, Ms. . .Berry?"

"Our former professors believed that a lesson on Dementors was too dangerous, and I am inclined to agree," Rachel said. "Besides which, the Aurors are hunting down all of the remaining Dementors, and trying to secure them. So there are probably more viable things that we should be learning."

"Hmm. . ." Professor Holliday seemed to consider this. "I take it you're the annoying girl that nobody likes. So then, let's learn about dementors!"

xxx

"Weirdest day ever?" Mercedes asked at dinner that night. Kurt nodded and tried to pull his face up from where it was currently resting on his folded hands. He was still feeling horribly depressed, cold, and empty from the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Weirdest day ever," he agreed.

He couldn't even watch with interest as a few houseelves dragged a massive, flaming goblet into the room. Figgins pointed at it and started talking, but as per usual hed forgotten to lift the wand to his throat. It didn't matter, though. . .Kurt was certain that every student at Hogwarts knew what was being said. Fifth, sixth, and seventh years were invited to submit their names. Kurt let his face fall to the table in defeat.

"Yeah. . ." Mercedes sighed. "You were definitely right. . .we're totally not cut out to put our names in the Goblet."

"Truer words, were never spoken," Kurt agreed.

He thought he'd probably be perfectly happy to fall asleep right there, weird table marks on his cheek be damned. He probably would have, too, if a heavy hand hadn't suddenly fallen on his back.

"Hey, bro," Finn said, his breath so close that it tickled Kurt's ear. "You okay?"

"Fine," Kurt mumbled into the table. He lifted one hand and waved it at his step-brother. "Now leave me alone."

"Dude. . .dinner's over," Finn said. "Do you need help getting back to your room?"

"Nurgh," Kurt said. He could practically _hear_ Finn's shrug, as his step-brother lumbered off. Mercedes tapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm going to bed," Mercedes said. "Are you coming?"

"Nurgh," Kurt said. It was, apparently, a very convincing noise, since Mercedes also left him. When the room was completely silent, Kurt rolled his head to one side, the better to stare at the goblet.

Eternal glory did sound nice. . .but he couldn't stomach the idea of completing any of the tasks that had been in previous tournaments. There were dragons, hippogriffs, angry mermaids, giants. . .no, it really wasn't his cup of tea. He wondered if Rachel would put her name in. It seemed like the kind of thing she would do, always wanting to be the best.

As he lay there, silent beneath the twinkling lights of the ceiling, he watched a stream of Slytherins walk by, dropping tiny slips of paper into the cauldron. James dropped in his name, of course, as did the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team.

It must have been around midnight when Sam arrived in the room. The light from the goblet shone eerily off his bleached hair, giving it a mysterious quality. Kurt blinked sleepily. He probably should be getting to bed. . .McGonagall would throw a fit if she found him in the morning, asleep at their table.

He had just decided to make the effort to stand, when he felt warm hands pull him back from the table. Instantly stiffening, he turned to look at whoever had grabbed him.

"Hey," Blaine said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "You okay, there?"

"I'm fine," Kurt said, but even just turning his head caused a crick in his neck to scream out. He must have winced, because Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right," he said. "Stay here for a minute, and then I'll help you back to your room."

That was when Kurt noticed the small piece of paper clasped in the other boys hand. Sure enough, Blaine gave him a little pat on the hand, before briskly walking to the goblet and dropping the paper in. It disappeared with a sizzle and a snap, and before Kurt even had time to process, Blaine was at his side again.

"All right," Blaine said. "Up and at'em. Let's get you back to your dorm before you get in trouble for being out past curfew."

"I'll just say I was submitting my name," Kurt said smartly. He didn't need help, he really didn't. Though. . .it did feel nice, the way Blaine's arm had snuck around his waist, and was supporting part of his weight. A little awkward, because Blaine was shorter than him, but still. Nice.

Blaine smelled nice, too. Like cinnamon, and expensive cologne. Kurt couldn't help but sneak peeks at the other boy, as they maneuvered their way up the stairs. It absolutely wasn't fair for a straight boy to be so delicious.

"There we go," Blaine said, depositing Kurt in front of his common room. "Back where you belong, safe and sound."

"Thanks," Kurt said. He glanced at Blaine's eyes. "I'm really sorry. About kissing you."

"Don't worry about it," Blaine said. "Really, it was my fault for losing concentration during the song. Besides. . .it's not like I've never kissed a boy before." With a wink, he turned and walked down the hallway.

Wait. . .Kurt sagged against the door. Blaine had kissed a. . ._what_?

Xxx

Rachel joined them for breakfast in the morning, ignoring all of the shocked glances directed toward a Slytherin sitting in the middle of a row of scarlet and gold. Kurt had sent Pavarotti out with an emergency message to all of his girls. Tina had sadly informed him that she had to sit with her House, but absolutely nothing – not even school rules – was going to keep Rachel from getting in with the gossip.

"Look," Mercedes said, spearing a hash brown with the end of her mouth. "Just because he's kissed a guy doesn't mean he's gay. I've kissed girls, and I'm not a lesbian."

"Really?" Rachel leaned forward, looking interested. "Who have you kissed? I've only ever kissed Blaine. Well, and Sam, but that doesn't really count, because everybody's kissed Sam."

"I haven't," Mercedes said with a frown. Kurt held up his hand.

"Wait, back up. . ._you_ kissed _Blaine_?"

"Yes, of course," Rachel said, looking surprised. "I thought you knew."

"You kissed the most beautiful, popular, talented boy at the school and didn't even _tell_ us?" Kurt pouted. "When?"

"Ages ago," Rachel said. She frowned at Mercedes, who was currently dipping a French toast stick into a vat of maple syrup. "My first year, I think. Anyway, it didn't go anywhere. He told me I wasn't his type."

"Ah," Kurt said, nodding his head wisely. "Because you don't have a Y chromosome."

"Or because he likes a little chocolate thunder!" Mercedes shouted. "Am I right? Am I right?"

Kurt and Rachel just stared at her, identical expressions on their faces. Mercedes was forced to high five herself.

Figgins chose that opportunte time to head up to the main podium. Before he even had a chance to begin speaking, Professor Schuester handed him a wand, clearly with a spell already on it.

"Oh, thank you," Figgins said, speaking directly into the thing. "Right. A few announcements, first. Moaning Myrtle has left the girl's bathroom and has made her way into the Hufflepuff prefects bathroom. Also, one of Hagrid's giant spiders is wandering around the basement of the castle, so please try to avoid that. And finally, we are proud to welcome the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons and the dapper gentlemen of Durmstrang to our hallowed halls."

As Figgins finished his ever-underwhelming speech (during which, Kurt noticed, Blaine and Sarah, the other Hufflepuff prefect, looked horrified), the doors at the end of the Great Hall blew open. Kurt gasped, and spun around, craning his neck to try and see who was coming in.

Only three girls walked in, which was somewhat surprising. Kurt had expected an entire class, or at least enough to field a Quidditch team. Although, he had to admit, the three girls who walked in were almost breath-takingly beautiful. Like angels, really. Sexy, sexy angels. And that was coming from a gay kid.

They were all dressed immaculately in blue suits, and they glided as they swirled forward. A blond led them, flanked on her left by a thin, fiery looking Latina, and on her right by another willowy blond. Kurt snapped his jaw shut. Maybe he'd been too fast to jump on the gay bandwagon. Maybe he swung both ways. . .there was a low wolf whistle from down the Gryffindor table. When Kurt glanced that way, he saw James staring appreciatively, his jaw hanging open a little. Kurt's mouth quirked a little. The three girls were blowing kisses now, the Hispanic girl lifting her skirt a little, and the taller blonde practically skipping. Kurt shook his head. They had to have some veela blood in them. . .it was the only explanation.

Over at the Hufflepuff table Finn, Sam, and Blaine all had equally poleaxed expressions on their faces. When all three of the Beauxbatons girls turned toward that table and winked in unison, Blaine started fanning Finn, while Sam's eyebrows rose so high that they nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"They're so pretty," Mercedes muttered. Rachel sniffed.

"They probably have no talent. Too used to getting by on their looks."

It wasn't until the girls sat down (at the still eerily empty Slytherin table – Rachel shot them a dirty glare) that Kurt remembered the Durmstrang boys. He swiveled around again to stare at the door.

Nothing happened for a long moment, before finally a cold breeze flew through the house. Kurt gasped. It was only September, so the weather outside was still relatively warm. But the wind blowing through the Great Hall was as chilly as December.

And then they came in.

Kurt stopped breathing.

It was him.

In all his rock star glory.

His jeans were tight.

His smile was blinding.

And his _hair_. . .dear God, his hair was tumbling around his face in perfectly arranged, perfectly gelled glory. Kurt sighed, and heard that same sigh echoed by the girls at all the tables around the Great Hall. Jesse st. James, the greatest wizard singing sensation _ever_. And he was even more beautiful in person than he was on the Floo Network, or in magazines or. . .

Kurt though his eyes might be crossing a little bit.

There were two other guys behind him, a hulking pair that represented everything that Kurt had always assumed Durmstrang students were. An entire school full of Beaters, really.

"Oh my God," Mercedes breathed. "He's so dreamy."  
>"Hunky," Rachel agreed.<p>

"Sexy."

"Swoon-worthy."

"Gorgoeous."

"Talented."

"Hot," Kurt said finally. "So. . .so. . .hot."

Just as he said that, Jesse st. James turned his face and made eye contact with him. The world didn't stop, and Kurt didn't faint. Because there was a moment. . .just a brief moment, when their eyes met, that Kurt got a flash. . .Jesse's eyes were cold and blank, and it didn't matter that his teeth were perfectly shaped and that his smile lit up the room, because they didn't light up his eyes. But then the flash was gone, and Kurt was back to staring at a perfect body, and perfect hair.

It was probably just an aftereffect from Professor Holliday's lesson, that was all.

**A/N: Reviews are love! Please? Also. . .I love Kurt the Horny Teenage Boy. Let's count the guys he's checked out so far. Blaine, check. Sam, check. Jesse, check. Cedric's picture, check. IS NOBODY SAFE?**

**Coming Soon: The Champions are announced, Kurt avoids Quidditch, and Blaine might be gay! Or not. Hmmmmm**


	4. Glamor

13:57

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, favorites, alerts, etc. As always, your awe and thanks keeps me going! ;)**

Kurt wasn't entirely sure what he thought about the Beauxbatons girls. They were. . .different, that was for certain. Once he got over their mind-numbing beauty ( which didn't take long, because, _hello_, gay) they didn't turn out to be so different from any of the girls at Hogwarts. Shallow, superficial, and totally boy crazy.

Rachel, of course, absolutely hated them. As Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez had made fast friends with most of the Slytherins (particularly the Slytherin _boys_) she had taken to sitting more and more often at the Gryffindor table.

"Look at them," she seethed. "It's so disgusting. They think that just because they're pretty they can get anything that they want."

"Well," Mercedes mused, "they kind of can."

"Whatever." Rachel flipped her long, dark hair over one shoulder. "I can brew an amortentia potion as good as any of them. And I am certain that I'm a better singer."

"I don't get what you're so upset about. What did any of them do to you?"

Kurt kind of dazed off while the two girls bitched back and forth at one another. He was pretty sure that he knew what had Rachel's panties in a snit, and it had absolutely nothing to do with magical (or vocal) prowess. It had, he suspected, much more to do with his massive oaf of a stepbrother.

The Beauxbatons girls might be sitting at the Slytherin table, but they spent most of every meal glancing over at the Hufflepuffs. Glancing at three of them in particular. Kurt didn't think even that would get Rachel so worked up, except that the boys were very obviously flirting back. Or attempting to. Sam's attempts at flirtation seemed to consist almost entirely of flipping his hair back, and shooting high fives. Of course, his dorky moves looked positively suave beside Finn. For whatever reason, the tall boy had decided that the best way to a girls heart was to chug massive amounts of chocolate milk, to the point where it would run down from the corners of his mouth and stain his t-shirt.

Pathetic.

Blaine, at least, was playing it moderately cool. He'd glance at the girls every once in a while, throw a wink or two, but for the most part he just talked to the other kids at his table. Every now and again he would meet Kurt's gaze and shrug his shoulders, as if to go "why am I friends with these buffoons?"

"She's not even that pretty," Rachel fumed. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"Do we really have to listen to this again?"

Kurt sighed. It had only been a week since the exchange students had arrived, and he was already sick and tired of listening to his two best friends rag on one another. He was fortunately saved, at least for the moment, by the arrival of mail.

Mercedes new owl cooed pleasantly at her, before dropping a small, pink envelope in front of her. Rachel's gay dads (and their appropriately flamboyant parrot) dropped off a packet of float lozenges. Pavarotti, meanwhile, pathetically hobbled down the table, dragging the Daily Prophet behind him.

"Oh, you poor darling," Kurt cooed as his canary practically collapsed in front of him. "Such a big newspaper for such a little bird."

Rachel and Mercedes were both staring at him with horror on their faces. He ignored them, pet Pavarotti on the head, and coolly opened the paper.

And promptly dropped it, nearly killing his beloved bird.

"Oh. . .my. . .Dumbledore!" he gasped, pointing at the front page article. "Did you know this? Mercedes. . .did you know this?"

"Know what?" the girl leaned forward, trying to desperately see the page. "Kurt, move your hand, I can't see."

But Kurt couldn't move his hand, because this was going to be the single most epic year _ever_. In one week he'd kissed Blaine Anderson (sure, he didn't remember it, but it had happened!), met Jesse st. James (even if he still hadn't gotten the courage to say a word to him), beat Rachel at the newest spell in Magical Lyricism (that's right, Kurt Hummel could now change the color of his eyes solely by humming a song by Mika) and now, most amazing of all, Blais Zambini was coming to Hogwarts.

Blais Zambini. The greatest wizard designer of the past decade, was coming to Hogwarts.

Xxx

For the first time all year, Kurt wasn't excited to go to Magical Lyricism. Not that he didn't like the class, but the Champions were going to be announced at dinner, and Blais Zambini, according to the Daily Prophet, was going to be the one doing the announcing.

Kurt had idolized the wizard since he was young. He owned twenty different pairs of shoes by the designer, and he would _kill_ to wear one of his dress robes to the Yule Ball. He was almost considering putting his name into the Goblet of Fire, just because it meant that he would get to have dinner with the famous designer. But, then again, it also potentially meant being burnt by a dragon, drowned by a mermaid, impaled by a unicorn, or any other number of unappealing options. So. . .perhaps he wouldn't.

"Hey, Kurt, what's up?" Finn asked, sitting down with a heavy plomp beside his brother.

"Um. . .nothing," Kurt said, a bit distrustfully. It wasn't like Finn tried to avoid him at school, but he definitely didn't usually seek him out for conversation. Especially when Sam and Blaine were around (which they currently were).

"Right, so. . .you hang out with Rachel a lot, right?"

"I suppose so. . ."

"And she's a Slytherin, right?"

"Indubitably."

"And the Beauxbatons girls usually sit at the Slytherin table, right?"

"Finn, as much as I enjoy the pleasure of your conversation, does this line of questioning have a point?

Finn blushed a little at that, and rubbed nervously at his head. "Could you talk to her and see if she likes me?"

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes simultaneously. Behind Finn, Sam and Blaine tried unsuccessfully to cover their broad smiles. Kurt was about to refuse, when the far door to the choir room opened, and Professor Schuester walked in, followed closely behind by four people.

"Hey, gang," he said enthusiastically. "We have four new members who will be joining us today. May I introduce to you Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, and Brittany Pierce of Beauxbatons, and Jesse st. James of Durmstrang?"

"Oh my Dumbledore," Kurt whispered, fanning himself a little. Jesse st. James was in the same room. Jesse freaking st. James was going to sing to him. This was too much. Next to him, an equally excited Mercedes reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Hi!" Kurt squeaked out, instantly turning red when everyone's gaze swiveled to look at him. Sam snorted, and Blaine just smiled indulgently. Kurt kind of wished he were dead.

The new students sat down, and Kurt suddenly remembered Finn's request.

"Hi," he said, sticking his hand out. "My name's Kurt Hummel. I was wondering what your thoughts are on Finn Hudson."

Quinn raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and looked over her shoulder at Finn. "I think he's pretty cute," she said coyly. Kurt grinned.

"Finn," he said, ignoring the way that his stepbrother was frantically waving him off. "She said she thinks your kind of cute."  
>"Thanks, Kurt!" Sam said, giving a thumbs up. Blaine thumped his friend on the shoulder, and turned to grin at Quinn.<p>

"He thinks you're pretty cute, too," he said. For some reason, by the end of that sentence he was looking at Kurt. Probably just a trick of the light, Kurt thought. Or the angle. Or. . .maybe he was looking at Jesse st. James.

Who was sitting.

Right.

Next.

To.

Kurt.

He thought he might hyperventilate.

"So today, I thought we would begin with. . ." Professor Schuester began, but was promptly cut off as Jesse st. James raised his hand. "Uh. . .yes, Jesse?"

"I thought that perhaps, as a welcome to the group, I might teach all of you a technique that I have learned," Jesse said with a smug expression on his face. "It's a way to put a love spell on people using only your voice."

Well, that was a little ironic. Kurt couldn't quite keep the giggle from escaping. Across the way, he saw that Blaine was sitting up straight, a broad grin across his face.

"Not again!" Finn yelled, blushing a little when everyone turned to look at him.

"One make-out, punch, fainting spell is enough, thank you very much," Rachel said primly. Blaine smirked a little more.

"I don't know," he said. "Jesse looks like a pretty good kisser."

Kurt's mouth fell open, and he instantly turned to Mercedes, mouthing "gay?" She just shrugged, looking at lost as he undoubtedly did. Jesse, meanwhile, just looked mildly confused.

"We covered love songs last week," Professor Schuester tried to explain. "It turns out that we have a lot of talent in this room."

Blaine just shrugged, all "aw, shucks." Jesse looked pissed. Quinn, meanwhile, crossed her legs daintily and raised one hand.

"Have you covered glamours yet?" she asked. Kurt instantly sat up straighter, because that sounded totally interesting. Out the corner of his eye, he saw the rest of the class looking equally interested, except for Jesse, who just looked _pissed_.

"Um, no. . ."

"I think that glamours would make for an excellent lesson," Rachel said. "I, for one, would love to learn to use my voice to influence the way externalities view me."

"Well, all right then," Quinn said, standing up, and gesturing to the other two Beauxbatons girls. "If you two wouldn't mind assisting me."

All three girls stood in front of them. Kurt noticed that Santana had their pinkies linked behind Quinn's back, and were shooting each other flirty looks. His grin widened a little. Looked like he wouldn't be the only out teen at school for long.

Then Quinn started to sing.

_"She was a-seaside sitting'_

_ Just a-smokin' and a-drinkin' on ringside_

_ On top of the world oh yeah_

_ She her drink in her hand_

_ She had her toes in the sand and whoa!_

_ What a beautiful girl, ah yeah_

_ What a sweet talkin' honey with a little bit o'money_

_ She turn your head around_

_ Creature from the sea with the looks to me_

_ Like she like to fool around_"

Quinn's voice was. . .okay. It was high, a little thin, and breathy. She was no Rachel Berry, that was for sure. But as she swayed from side to side, with the girls behind her throwing in little doo-wops and she-bops she seemed to. . .glisten. Her eyes shone green, and her skin was freakin' _flawless_.

Kurt was a little jealous. Even more jealous as he noticed the boys' eyes widening, as he noticed Mercedes sitting back with the dejected slump she got whenever she was feeling overshadowed. Rachel, meanwhile, was nodding her head approvingly and jotting down little notes.

Suddenly Blaine jumped up to join the girls, a look of intense concentration on his face.

_"What a snappy ittle mammy gonna keep a pappy happy_

_ And accompany me, to the ends of the earth, ah yeah_

_ That's what I said_"

Blaine was a very talented singer, and he'd always been the top of the class in Musical Lyricism, but Kurt had to say, maybe this wasn't his lesson. Because as the girls continued to sing, and their beauty continued to shine out, Blaine just looked the same as he concentrated on the emotions and the words.

Which, granted, meant that he looked _amazing_ with those melting hazel eyes, that charming smile, those slicked-back curls that Kurt just wanted to run his fingers through. And sure, he had a rocking body, and he absolutely shone when he sang, all masculine beauty and restrained sensuality.

But really, he just looked the same to Kurt as ever.

Except. . .to his side he noticed that Rachel was scribbling even more furiously, and Mercedes had jerked up from her slump a bit. She cocked her head curiously.

And Santana was eying up Blaine, too, so maybe there was something going on. Kurt just didn't see it.

And then Jesse st. James, clearly irritated at not being the center of attention, stood up and started to sing.

_"Here I am, ain't no man of the world, no_

_ All I need is a beautiful girl_

_ Ah yeah, beautiful girls_

_ Come here, honey. Come here, come here_."

Jesse blew everyone out of the world. His voice was perfection, and as he started to twine it around with music he shone like the sun. Kurt could barely even _see_ Quinn, standing somewhere behind him, and the other two gils had disappeared entirely. He actually had to shade his eyes when trying to look at Jesse.

He could still see Blaine, but that was probably only because he was standing to close to Kurt's seat.

When the music stopped, all five performers stood for a moment up there, chests heaving. Until, with one movement, Finn, Sam, and Rachel leapt to their feet, clapping vigorously. Kurt just glanced over at Mercedes, pleased to see that her face looked as blown away as his own.

"That song was _awesome_," Finn practically exploded. "Rocking!"

Quinn just grinned and sat down demurely. "Glad that you liked it," she murmured.

"That was so interesting," Rachel breathed. "Oh, I can't wait to try that out. My hairbrush won't know what hit it!"

xxx

Kurt was looking forward to tea time. It was one of the most relaxing times at Hogwarts, due almost entirely to the fact that nobody knew about it, other than himself, Mercedes, Rose Weasley, and Scorpius Malfoy. It was a moment to get away from everyone who always had to be so loud, screaming to be heard.

And, yeah, sometimes Kurt enjoyed being hurt, but he also enjoyed his tea time. Plus, the biscotti were tiny enough that he didn't have to worry about his figure, and the rose tea was absolutely divine.

Unfortunately, that day the Beauxbatons girls followed him down. No matter how he and Mercedes ducked and dived, they unerringly followed him in.

"Oh, is it dinner time already?" Brittany asked, when Kurt finally gave up and they walked into the Great Hall.

"No," Rose said, curly red hair tied back with a ribbon and her arms full of books, as per usual. "It's tea time, of course." She sniffed at Kurt. "Haven't you any manners at all? But I suppose I shouldn't expect it. You're a Gryffindor."

"Your brother's in Gryffindor," Mercedes pointed out.

"My point exactly."

"I'm rather surprised that Hogwarts would have something as civilized as tea," Quinn said, sweeping her skirt behind her as she sat, ankles perfectly crossed.

"I'm surprised we're not just eating bangers and mash," Santana said. "Pleased, but surprised."

Kurt just grunted, because he didn't really know what else to say. Mercedes, meanwhile, was just staring at the girls with something akin to awe.

"You're a really great singer," she finally whispered. Her skin was too dark to blush properly, but Kurt was pretty sure that he still saw a red tinge spread across her face. Santana snorted, but Quinn just smiled.

"Thanks," she said. "But I know my singing's not that great. Luckily, with a little magic behind it, nobody notices."

Mercedes just continued to nod along blankly, and Kurt had to wonder if maybe the glamour hadn't worn off her yet.

"It was an interesting spell," he admitted. "Though, admittedly, I play for the opposite team, even I found you three ladies moderately more attractive."

"What team do you play for?" Brittany asked innocently. Santana snorted again. Kurt ignored her.

"What I found really interesting, though, was the way that the spell didn't seem to work for Blaine. Usually he's so talented in. . ." his words drifted off as he noticed all four of the girls glaring at him. "Um. . .excuse me? Do I have something on my face?"

"Nothing, just. . .he was really good," Mercedes said delicately. "Not as good as Jesse, obviously, but he doesn't have as much practice. He seemed about a foot taller when he was singing."  
>"His arms were pratically tearing through his shirt," Quinn said dreamily.<p>

"And what a package he carries. . ." Santana agreed.

"I wanted to pet his moustache," Brittany finished.

"Right. . ." Kurt just shrugged. He hadn't noticed any of those. . .unique attributes. Maybe they'd all just gone crazy. It wouldn't be the first time that his mind track and girl track were off. Not that it happened often, but it wasn't completely unheard of.

The house-elves were just coming in with the tea when Sam barreled in. His eyes widened a little when he noticed Kurt and Mercedes, but he wasn't deterred from his evident purpose – the Beauxbatons girls. He hurried over to them, extending one hand chivalrously.

"Hogwarts would like to cordially invite you three to the first informal training match of the season," he said. They looked at him blankly. "Quidditch?" he said, a little uncertainly.

"Oh!" Mercedes mouth broke into a wide grin. She, unlike Kurt, absolutely adored the ridiculous wizarding sport, but then, she'd grown up in a world of wizards and bludgeors, so perhaps it was only to be expected. She instantly stood up, tugging at Kurt's arms. "We have to go! Come on!"

"Oh," Quinn said slowly. "are you two going?"

"I suppose so," Kurt said dubiously. "We love Quidditch."

Sam raised one eyebrow, and Kurt realized that he would have to amend that statement.

"Well, Mercedes loves Quidditch. I love scarves."

"Me, too!" Brittany said, hopping to her feet. "I like sparkly ones the best."

"I'm partial to a little sparkle," Kurt agreed. He was surprised when she linked her arm through his, and then took his hand with a little gasp.

"Your hands are so soft! Like a baby's!"

"My secret. . ." he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Duck fat." Brittany nodded solemnly. She turned around to face the two other girls and quite seriously said "Quack."

In the end they all ended up heading to the pitch, though Sam had to run off to change into his gear. While Quinn was asking polite questions about sporting events at school, Santana only wanted to hear about the uniforms.

"So what do they wear under the robes?" she asked Mercedes.

"Um. . .just a normal jumper. . ."

"And what do they wear under the jumper?"

"Uh. . .I don't really know. . ."

The stands were completely empty when they arrived.

"Are your sporting events always so well attended?" Quinn asked. Kurt was beginning to wonder if her eyebrow was just permanently raised in that expression of derision. But he swallowed down his biting comment and just shook his head.

"It's just a practice," he explained. "I'm sure Sam just invited you so he and Finn could show off."

In all honesty, Kurt was a little curious himself. As far as he knew, the teams hadn't even begun try-outs, and he'd thought that Quidditch was postponed for the Tournament. Still, he felt nice and cozy bundled up between Mercedes and Brittany, with the warm sun beaming down on him. He lifted his face toward the sky, closed his eyes, and hummed a little.

He heard the teams entering the pitch: heard Finn's booming laughter, Sam doing one of his horrible impersonations. He was pretty sure that he heard Mike, Artie, and James, too. They'd probably just gathered all of the upperclass boys who played. With all four houses combined, it was probably enough for a team.

He knew the instant that the game started, because Brittany jumped up from her seat and darted away. Kurt just sighed, and kept his eyes closed. He didn't really appreciate the whizzing of the brooms, or watching his brother hurl massive, rock-sized balls at other boys. Mercedes was clapping beside him. When a warm weight settled down, he assumed it was Brittany, and let his head slide over to settle on her shoulder.

Well, that was odd. He could have sworn that she was taller.

"Don't slouch, boo," he said sleepily. "You're not a very good headrest when you're so low."

The body beneath his cheek shook with laughter, deep and rolling. Kurt's breath caught in his throat. No girl laughed like that. Even worse, he was certain that he _knew_ that laugh.

He jerked back up. He could feel how bright red his face was, could feel the way the flush extended down the back of his neck.

"Sorry," Blaine said with a shrug, his eyes dancing with merriment. "I wish I could grow a foot, too."

"B-Blaine," Kurt stammered. "Sorry. I assumed you were Brit."

"S'not a problem," Blaine said with a wink. He directed his gaze back toward the game. "Didn't know you were a big sports fan," he said.

"I'm not," Kurt admitted. "But the girls wanted to come out, and I'll never turn down the opportunity to break out the fall scarves." He gave his own a little twitch, to illustrate. That made Blaine laugh again, which made a warm feeling settle in the bottom of Kurt's belly.

They sat together for a good hour, Blaine clapping and shouting encouragement to the boys playing. Kurt had been right. . .the two teams were composed of a smattering of players from all four Houses. He was a little surprised to see Rachel out there, but then he thought about it, and realized that he wasn't surprised at all. There were two boys that he didn't recognize for a long moment, before placing their faces as the two hulks from Durmstrang. They were Beaters. Predictable.

"You certainly seem to know a lot about the game," Kurt commented. Blaine nodded.

"I love sports," he said. Kurt put another mark in the "straight" category of the chart that he kept in his head.

"Surprised you aren't out there yourself."

Blaine shrugged a little self-deprecating. "I'm not very good," he admitted. "Too short. Skinny. Plus, I have a horrible fear of heights."

Beside him, Mercedes snorted. Kurt just raised one eyebrow. It was very hard ot believe that Blaine Anderson had any fears at all. Hard to believe that there wasn anything that he didn't naturally excelled at.

"It's true!" Blaine said, raising his arms. "Absolutely terrify me. That's the main reason I'm not taking Divination this year."

"That and the fact that it sucks," Mercedes pointed out. Blaine laughed.

"Yeah," he agreed. "That, too."

Kurt was about to throw in a witty rejoinder of his own, when Brittany suddenly screamed. Kurt glanced back out at the pitch, only to see Rachel plummeting toward the ground. He leapt to his feet. Yeah, Rachel could be an annoying, self-centered, conceited diva, but she was still one of his best friends, and he hardly wanted to see her smushed up against the green of a Quidditch lawn.

Well. . .at least not today.

Finn was chasing after her, which should have been a relief, because Finn loved riding his broom, and did it every instant he had. He _should_ be a better flyer than Rachel, a faster one. He _should_ be able to scoop her up and save (and oh, wouldn't little Rachel Berry love to be rescued by her knight in shining Finn). He should have, but Rachel was only a few yards from the ground, and Finn was still well above her. . .

When Rachel abruptly lifted her hand toward the sky and trilled "I got it!"

Unfortunately, although Finn was pretty good at gaining velocity, he'd never quite mastered the skill of braking. He tumbled off the broom, knocking Rachel to the ground along with it. Kurt vaulted over the edge of the spectator's area, muttering a quick _Levicorpus_ to keep him from falling to his death, and rushed over to them. His stepbrother and dearest frenemy were a tangle of limbs on the ground, but they both seemed unharmed.

"Are you insane?" Finn roared, pulling himself off the tiny brunette. "You could have killed yourself!"

Rachel just grinned brightly, and held out her hand for inspection. "But I caught it!" she said triumphantly. "I caught that Snatch!"

"Holy crow!" Sam skidded to a stop beside them, and plucked the small, buzzing ball out of Finn's hand. "You have _got_ to play for us next year!"

"Not a Hufflepuff, sorry," Rachel said, still buzzing with excitement. She turned to Kurt, and flung her arms around his neck. "See, Hummel. . .told you I'm a star!"

**A/N: Oh, Rachel. So clueless. Sorry, meanwhile, I really thought that I'd get to the naming of the Champions in this chapter, but it just kept going and going, and Kurt and Blaine were being so cute that I didn't want to interrupt them.**

**Hmm. . .why was Kurt unaffected by Blaine's glamour? Any guesses?**

**COMING SOON: The Champions are named! Karofsky has a secret! Rachel gets jealous! Jesse has a secret motive! And Blaine is probably, definitely, maybe gay! That's right, my friends. Next chapter begins the greatest crack!ship of all time. . .St. Blaintanofsky! BWA HA HA HAHA.**

**No, just kidding. Just Blaintana. And Blainofsky. But could there be. . .some St. Hummel action coming at you? Why yes. . .why yes I think there might.**


	5. The Champions

13:57

**A/N: A little bit shorter, but I did warn you, it's really just the conclusion of yesterday's.**

Rachel was glaring across the Great Hall with a look of intense concentration. Kurt was secretly glad that they hadn't learned wandless magic yet, because he was pretty sure that if they had, Quinn would be nothing more than a smoking pile of ash. Rachel sighed, and clenched her hands into a fist.

"I don't get it," she seethed. "She. . .He. . .I caught the Snutch! Didn't you guys see me? I caught it! Not that stupid, blonde Barbie." She pounded her hand on the table. Kurt winced at the sound, and gingerly patted her hand.

"Yes, darling, we all saw it," he said.

Rachel resumed her glaring, and Kurt just exchanged a look with Mercedes. If Finn didn't get up and return to his table soon, they'd be stuck listening to the tirade all dinner long. And really, it had just been too long of a day to deal with all of Rachel's histrionics.

"Rachel, boo," Mercedes said gently, "he's sitting over at the Slytherin table. You could just join them, you know."

"Please, Mercedes," Rachel said, dropping into a lecturing tone, "I can't be seen as being desperate. That would undo all of the hard work I've put in."

Kurt had no idea what she was talking about. Not that he cared all that much, as Jesse st. James walked into the Hall. He stood for a moment, his two goons behind him. One of them – the bigger one – leaned down and whispered in Jesse's ear. The rock star laughed uproariously at whatever was said, before leading them over to the Ravenclaw table. Kurt released a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding. Maybe next meal.

"It's just. . .grrr." Rachel thumped her head into the table. "I can't wait until I get to sing a love spell to him. _Then_ he'll get it. Stupid Finn Hudson."

Kurt sighed, but he figured that Stupid Finn Hudson must have known something he didn't, because Stupid Finn Hudson was talking to a cool, collected young woman, while Smart Kurt Hummel was stuck awkwardly patting Rachel's back.

Meanwhile, he just really, really wanted to see Blais Zabini. He didn't necessarily care about the choosing of the Champions. . .he just assumed that James would represent Hogwarts. He was, after all, the son of the famous Harry Potter. He had the charm, and the good looks, anyway, so it would be okay. Or maybe Sam, who was the star of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, or little Sunshine Corazon, or one of the many, many Slytherins he'd seen put a slip in. Mostly he just wanted to see his idol.

Dumbledore, he wanted to see what Blais was _wearing_. Because he would definitely change up his outfit to coordinate. Or match. Or completely emulate. One of the three.

Figgins evidently, saw no need to draw out the suspense, which was not particularly surprising. He'd never been very good at theatricality, Kurt thought critically. The minute their headmaster stepped up he straightened himself, craning around, searching for any glimpse of the famous fashion design.

Figgins cleared his throat. Still no sign of Blais.

"A few announcements. Nearly Headless Neck is now Completely Headless Nick. Will whichever Weasley stole his head kindly return it? Thank you. Also, cease teaching the Fat Lady songs by Celine Dion. Now then, I would like to introduce to all of you to Blais Zabini."

Kurt was on his feet instantly, clapping as enthusiastically as possible. Meanwhile, the rest of the Great Hall was silent, with the exception of Hugo Weasley protesting "it wasn't me! I swear!"

"Honestly?" Kurt asked, no one in particular. "You guys don't know who Blais Zabini is? Neanderthals!"

He glared at Mercedes, who promptly stood up and started clapping her hands. Over at the Hufflepuff table, Blaine grabbed Sam by the shoulder. Once those two were standing, clapping, the rest of the students slowly joined. Kurt nodded appreciatively. He did love Hogwarts. . .sometimes the students were a little backwards, but at least they shared a sense of unity.

Just then, the doors at the end of the Great Hall blew open, and Kurt completely forgot about his love of Hogwarts, because a vision in grey silk and pearl walked in.

Oh, Dumbledore. Were slates the newest fall colors? He was going to completely alter the palette of his wardrobe. . .

Blais Zabini was everything that Kurt had ever expected. He walked with measured, cultured steps. His gaze was haughty. His shoes were impeccably shiny, and his clothes. . .dear Dumbledore, his clothes were silk and high quality, and absolutely one of a kind. Mercedes nudged him in the ribs.

"Close your mouth," she hissed. "You're drooling."

Kurt closed his mouth with a sharp _clack_ as his teeth met one another. He sat down with the rest of the students as Zabini stood imperiously near the Goblet.

"Pleasure, I'm sure," he said, with a little bit of a sneer on his face. Mercedes frowned, and Kurt felt the need to remind her that fashion icons didn't necessarily have to possess great public speaking skills. Or any, usually. Just a brief into to their new line at Fashion Week, and maybe a quotable or two. He thought that Zabini was doing just fine.

"I'm so very pleased to be here," Zabini said, his voice droll and dripping with cold jewels. "But I know that you're all mostly just interested to know who your Champions are." He pressed one hand, long, tapered fingers, to the side of the Goblet. A single stream of blue fire spit out of the top, causing all of the girls to ooh, and several of the guys to high five. Kurt grinned.

The fire exploded again, a shower of sparks, and a single piece of paper went flying into the air. An excited Figgins jerked forward to grab it.

"The first Champion, from Beauxbatons is. . .Quinn Fabray."  
>Kurt rolled his eyes. So predictable. It was pretty neat, though, when the cauldron belched out a second piece of paper. This time Professor Schuester caught the paper.<p>

"The second Champion, from Hogwarts is. . .Rachel Berry."

"Yes!"

Kurt winced. Rachel Berry's voice could probably shatter mirrors, at that intensity. Apparently over her earlier sulk, Rachel ran to the front fo the room, and grabbed Figgins wand out of his hand.

"I want to thank all of you for this opportunity," she said. "I'm thrilled to be representing all of you, and I can assure you that the long legacy of Hogwarts triumph in the Triwizard –eek!"

Her (irritating) speech was abruptly cut off as the Goblet, indifferent to acceptance speeches, spewed out another explosion of blue fire and another single sheet of paper. As Kurt watched Zabini's face light up with the glow of blue flame, he caught the disappointed looks on the Hufflepuff boys' faces. Sam looked the most disappointed, while Blaine maintained his composure. Still, Kurt thought he might be seeing some chinks in the armor. Hmm. . .

Professor Sylvester grabbed the final sheet of paper away from the headmaster. "And the final Champion. . .just loser with a C. . .from Durmstrang is Dave Karofsky."

Kurt's hands froze, halfway to clapping. That was. . .unanticipated. He snuck a side glance toward where the Durmstrang boys were seated. Karofsky's face looked as blank as ever, while Jesse looked. . .Jesse looked completely unhinged. He was halfway standing, and was absolutely _glaring_ at Zabini, as though he had something to do with the results. That was. . .odd.

Before Kurt had the opportunity to wonder at the strange expressions, however, the Goblet gave another shudder, and with the most massive exposion of sparks yet, spewed out two pieces of paper, simultaneously. Zabini caught both of them, and peered down at them with a serpentine smile painted across his thin lips.

"Wha. . .more names?" Professor Schuester shook his head. "Headmaster, that's not how it works."

"Be quiet, Professor!" Figgins said. "If it is what the Cauldron wants. . ."  
>"But Figgins," Professor protested. "The last time the Cauldron gave us more than two Champions it was Harry Potter. . .and we all know that was Volde—"<p>

"Don't say his name!" Figgins exploded. He glanced around nervously. "And don't be ridiculous, William. You-Know-Who has been dead for two decades now. He can't possibly have a hand in this!"

Zabini, meanwhile, ignored both of them. He just pet the pieces of paper.

"Boo," Mercedes whispered, leaning across the table, "your fashion idol is kind of creepy."

Yeah, Kurt couldn't really argue with that.

"Well?" Figgins said impatiently, leaning forward. "Who are our final Champions?"

A sudden hush fell over all of the students, because this _was_ unprecedented. Kurt noticed that all of the Hufflepuffs had their heads bowed, their hands quietly linked. Thinking about Cedric, no doubt. All down the Gryffindor table there was whisperning, people turning to look uncomfortably toward James. Kurt just adjusted his hair.

"From Durmstrang, we have Jesse st. James," Zabini said, and although Jesse was squick to compose his face, Kurt _knew_ that he had seen a look of triumph flit across his face. "And from Hogwarts, Blaine Anderson."

The world absolutely exploded. Santana was on her feet, swearing about _injusticia_ and how Beauxbatons deserved two Champions, as well. Gryffindor was screaming that a Potter should be a Champion, or a Weasley. Karofsky was shaking his head. And Blaine was just sitting on his bench, mouth wide open.

"Settle down!" Figgins yelled. When everyone ignored him, he grabbed the wand back from Rachel, and tried again. "Settle down!"

But it was complete pandemonium. The Hufflepuff students were all clapping Blaine on the back, although a few of the girls had broken down into tears. Rachel, meanwhile, was having her hand solemnly shaken by all of the Slytherins. Santana was being literally carried off the stage by her blond friend as she attempted to pull another sheet of paper from the Cauldron.

"Shut yer yappers!"

It was Coach Beiste who finally got them all to quiet down. "Really!" she said. "I expected more out of you Hogwarts kids. You're acting like an octopus at a square dance! Now get off to bed, before I have to teach all of you what happens to fish that find themselves in the middle of a vat of ice cream!"

Kurt wasn't sure if it was that Coach Beiste looked absolutely terrifying, backlight by the still-smoldering Cauldron, or if it was just that all of the students were trying to desperately figure out what she was talking about, but the mission seemed to be accomplished. All of the students began shuffling off to bed, discussing the surprising results. He glanced at Mercedes, one eyebrow cocked, as they stepped into the Gryffindor common room. She nodded back at him, and Kurt knew what that meant.

Girl time in front of the fire.

They snuggled up there after curfew, bundled together under one big blanket. Mercedes giggled as she snuggled up next to him, their thights touching under the blanket.

"Shoot," she said. "I forgot my wand."

Kurt shrugged. He didn't have his, either, but that wasn't a big deal. He just glanced over at the chimney and whispered _"Incendio_." It instantly burst into fire.

Mercedes grinned, her teeth flashing white in the darkness. "I forgot you can do that. Pretty cool."

"That's me," he said. "Kurt Hummel, fashionista, diva, and all around pretty cool guy."

Mercedes didn't respond to that, other than a soft giggle. A comfortable silence settled between them. They both knew what they were there to talk about, both knew what they wanted to say, but neither was quite sure how to begin. It was Mercedes who started.

"You don't think it's like. . .you don't think it's like with Cedric and Mr. Potter, do you?"

Kurt paused for a moment to think, before shaking his head. "No. Voldemort is dead. He's gone. Most of his followers have been rounded up."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." Mercedes shook her head, black hair swishing, nearly invisible in the darkness. "Besides, it's not like any of them are special. Except Jesse."

"Yeah. . .besides, if this were similar to. . .to back then. . .it would be Blaine and Jesse in danger."

Mercedes snorted. "Hard to imagine anyone wanting to get back at Blaine. He's just this. . .boring nice guy. And Jesse's got to be the greatest rock star alive." She gasped, suddenly, and turned to look at Kurt. "You don't think some crazed fan is setting this all up, do you?"

"No," he said. "I don't think that a crazy fan did not sneak past Hogwarts security, bewitch a magical heirloom, and cause Jesse to be entered into a interscholastic tournament."

Mercedes sighed. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of stupid."

They stared into the fire for a long moment, listening to it crackle.

"So. . ." Mercedes said finally. "Blaise Zabini's kind of a dick, isn't it?"

Kurt had to stuff a hand into his mouth to keep himself from bursting out with laughter.

**A/N: Dun dun dun. . .the plot thickens. Or. . .begins, really. Hmmm. . .also, bravo to all you smart readers. But is that **_**really**_** the only reason Kurt is not affected? Hmmm. . .**

**COMING SOON: A trip to Hogsmeade! Jesse has a secret motive, and Rachel has a not-so-secret plan. Somebody finds out Karofsky's secret, and George Weasley makes a cameo! **


	6. Hogsmeade

13:57

**A/N: Annnnnd we're back! Bit of a hiatus there, sorry. Got distracted with a pair of one-shots and a new AU: X-Factor. Highly recommend reading all of them. You know, not that I'm biased or anything. Anyway, the plot maybe thickens a little here. . . **

Three days after the Champions had been announced, and not much had happened around Hogwarts. James was shooting angry looks at Rachel any time she sat at the Gryffindor table, and Finn and Sam had begun passing out bright pink "Reign, Blaine!" buttons, despite his embarrassed protests. Quinn had even more boys falling over her than before, which Kurt would have thought was completely impossible.

Professor Schuester had been over the moon, of course, quickly pointing out that of the six Champions, five of them were in Musical Lyricism. Kurt didn't point out that Blaine, Jesse, Quinn, and Karofsky also all had Potions together. Sometimes he thought that Professor Schuester had a complete lack of any life, so he certainly wasn't going to deny him what little enjoyment was left to him.

Unfortunately, it also meant that he'd completely changed all of his lesson plans to better serve the Champions. He winced and leaned over. Finn's attempt to create a protective shield by singing Celine Dion was particularly painful. . .and had a tendency to make strange, watery bubbles fall on people's head, rather than protecting them.

"Does somebody know how to turn Frankenteen off?" Santana shrieked after one particularly large bubble burst directly above her head. Blaine just grinned, leaned over with his hand above her head, and hummed "_It's Getting Hot in Herre_" until her hair was dry.

"Thanks," she said, turning to him and running one finger down his chest. "Dark, handsome, _and_ talented."  
>"Not tall, unfortunately," Blaine said with a shrug.<p>

Finn, meanwhile, had apparently decided that a bizarre thrashing movement would somehow improve his spell.

"Finn, _what_ are you doing?" Mercedes asked.

"D-dancing?"

"Okay, okay," Professor Schuester said, walking over and putting his hand on Finn's shoulder. "I think that's enough for today. A really, really good effort." Finn grinned, and kind of bobbed his head awkwardly toward Quinn before sitting down. Kurt felt a sudden surge of affection for his goob of a stepbrother.

"Now then," Professor Schuester said. "Since I do believe this is the last class of the day for all of you, I'm supposed to remind all of you that the trip to Hogsmeade is tomorrow, and you absolutely _won't_ be permitted to go if you don't bring a permission slip."

Finn's hand was instantly raised. Professor Schue put two hands to his temple and shook his head. "No, Finn, you can't just bring your slip from last year. It needs to be current."

Said swell of affection died abruptly when Finn began to kick at the ground in a pique. Kurt sighed, and pulled a sheet of paper out of his bag. "Here, Finn," he said, waving it under the other boy's nose. "I had Carole sign it ages ago for you."

It was like watching the sun come up after a day of rain. Finn practically flew out of his chair to hug Kurt. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he gushed. "Oh my gosh, I owe you so big for this!"

"Yes, well. . ." Kurt attempted to remove the wrinkles from his dress robe. "You do know what you agreed to do with me?" The look on Finn's face said that he very obviously did not. "We're shopping for dress robes to the Yule Ball. Remember?"

Affection officially gone, as Finn rolled his eyes up in his head and slumped to the ground. Blaine patted him on the back consolingly. "Hey, at least you know you'll look good for the dance."

Xxx

Kurt was a fan of Hogsmeade. It was hardly high fashion, and he'd obviously rather be shopping in London, or even Diagon Alley, but Hogsmeade was about the best he was going to get. And Gladrags was all right. . .it had gotten better, anyway, since Lavender Brown had bought it out a few years ago. Still. . .he knew that chances were that if he even ended up going to the Yule Ball, he'd be sending out for his own robes.

If he even went. Because really, what was the point of going to a high school dance alone? All of his friends would be dancing with their boyfriends, and he'd just be the obligatory waltz here or there, someone to hand a glance of punch to. Unless the rumors about Jesse st. James were true. . .

Kurt snorted. Even _if_ the rumors were true, there was still no way a famous rock star like Jesse st. James would ever go to the Yule Ball with someone like him. Pointless fantasies.

"Finn, hurry up," Kurt said, tapping his foot anxiously. Rachel, standing beside him, was also bouncing up and down, clearly impatient to go. Kurt glanced over at her. "You don't have to wait with us. I'm sure Mercedes wouldn't mind hanging out with you."

"Mercedes would, of course, love to be graced with my presence," Rachel agreed. "But I also need dress robes. Now that I'm a Champion, I'll have to lead one of the dances. Presentation is very important, you know."

"Oh, honey, I know," Kurt said, glancing at her attire. "I'm just not sure that _you_ do."

The truth of the matter was that 99% of the time, Rachel was dressed fine. Not terribly fashionably, but not heart-stoppingly poorly, either. Then again, 99% of the time, she was wearing the Hogwarts uniform. When she wasn't, it just got. . .ugly.

Today, for instance, she had decided for whatever God-forsaken reason that pairing red tights with a navy skirt and a green sweater with an owl on it was a good idea. Which maybe it was, if she was trying to get on a worst-dressed list, or only be attractive to colorblind farmers.

Kurt thought that either was probably possible when it came to Rachel Berry.

Finn finally came out, after Kurt would have sworn that he'd seen every other student at Hogwarts leave. His stepbrother was slouched over, hands thrust deep in his pockets. He glanced up at Kurt, and did a slight doubletake to see Rachel beside him.

"Is she coming?" he grumped.

"Yes, unfortunately," Kurt said. "Now then, I was thinking that we could begin with. . ."

"Hold up, man," Finn said, reaching out one large hand and plopping it down on Kurt's sweater. Which normally would _not_ be okay, but fortunately he was just wearing a wool blend coat, so it wouldn't be unduly difficult to wash out whatever chip grease Finn left behind. Still, he stared at the hand a bit distastefully. "Blaine said he wanted to come, too."

"Oh, really?" Rachel asked, perking up instantly (as if she weren't already as perky as a chipmunk hopped up on cocaine, Kurt thought). "That's incredibly fortuitous. Maybe we can share notes on our theories regarding our clue. Finn, did you know that I'm a Champion?"

"Yeah, um, that's totally cool, Rachel," Finn said. His voice indicated that he did not find it cool at all. After having spent a week listening to her expound on the subject, Kurt did not find it particularly cool anymore, either. What was cool? The idea of spending an afternoon with Blaine Anderson. Kurt was beginning to think that he could get very behind this new outing.

Before he had the time to decide whether this had the potential to be the greatest afternoon of his life (shopping + Blaine + Finn being there to divert Rachel's interest) Jesse st. James walked by, followed by his coterie of thugs. As per usual, Jesse completely ignored Kurt, but did smile charmingly at Rachel.

"Ms. Berry, looking ravishing as ever," he said as he strolled past. Rachel grinned, and bobbed up and down on her feet.

"Thank you, Jesse, that's very kind," she said, shooting a pointed look toward Finn. "It's always good to know that somebody has noticed the extra effort occasionally given to one's appearance."

"Psh," Jesse clucked. Kurt noticed that he was wearing particularly tight, silver pants. Now, normally Kurt was all for a little flair – let your freak flag fly, that's what he said (provided it was within the realm of experimentation and not fashion disaster) but he thought he could actually see his reflection in those pants. He was so busy inspecting the pants that he didn't catch the start of Jesse's response. "…need to, though it's always appreciated. At least. . ." here Jesse leaned over, and scooped up Rachel's hand "by those of us of discerning tastes." He brushed his lips across Rachel's knuckles before continuing on.

One of the goons, the bigger one, shoved Kurt rudely. As their bodies made contact, Kurt was pretty sure that the other boy gripped him around the upper arm, though he couldn't be sure, it all happened so fast. . .

"Watch your eyes, you little fag."

Somehow Kurt ended up on the ground. But that. . .that couldn't be right. He was at Hogwarts. These kinds of things didn't _happen_ at Hogwarts, they happened back home, in London, they happened in elementary school, they didn't. . .

It must have beeen some kind of bizarre flashback. Perhaps he was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. Yes, that was it. Seeing the dress robes that Finn had been planning to wear to the Yule Ball must have sent him into some form of shock. He most definitely had _not_ just been shoved by a visiting student in the Hogwarts courtyard.

Right?

"Hey, guys!" an out-of-breath Blaine came up, just as Finn was helping Kurt back to his feet.

"You really should work on your poise," Rachel said crticially. "If you practiced ballet, as I have since the age of three, you wouldn't be nearly so clumsy. Hello, Blaine, how are you today."

"Good," he said with a grin. He high fived Finn, and nodded at Kurt. "You okay? Trip or something?"

"Or something," Kurt said, but it was really hard to concentrate on his newly discovered mental disorder when Blaine was smiling like that. He shook his head, trying to chase away the cobwebs. "Come on, let's go."

They fell into a natural gait, Finn and Rachel up front. Finn naturally walked quicker, with his long strides and Rachel was. . .well, Rachel. Blaine and Kurt fell back a little way. They walked in silence, their hands brushing against one anothers every few minutes. The path was really too narrow for two people to be walking it together, and Kurt kept waiting for Blaine to speed up or slow down. He never did.

"So. . .uh. . .you nervous about the first challenge?" he finally asked, just for the sake of saying something. Blaine shrugged, his gaze still directed forward.

"Don't know," he said. "I mean. . .I think I figured out the clue, but. . ."

"Can I. . .can I see it?" Kurt asked. Blaine didn't respond at first, but after a moment reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. Kurt stared at it for a long minute.

_From lean lines to dangerous curves_

_ Up in the air the return of high hair_

_ To know what she rode in on_

_ You'd have to be there_

Oh my Dumbledore. Kurt knew this. He knew the answer, because they were all the headlines from his favorite Vogue cover _ever_. He glanced sideways at Blaine. "It's. . .um. . .it's an egg," he said. Blaine nodded, not looking at all impressed.

"Right, for Lady Gaga," he agreed. "But what does that. . .wait a minute. . ." he suddenly seemed to realize something, and turned around to stare at Kurt, his mouth hanging open just the slightest bit. "How did you. . ."

"You read _Vogue_?" Kurt asked in disbelief.

"The Marion Cotilliard cover is only my favorite ever," Blaine said with a wink.

"Be still my heart," Kurt said dramatically. No reason Blaine had to know he was being one hundred percent serious when he said that. Also. . .check two in the gay category. "If you like Patti LuPone, you might just be the perfect man."

"Don't be silly," Blaine said, and, Kurt had to admit, his heart sunk just a little. "Every person with half a brain loves Patti LuPone. _The Robber Bridegroom, Les Mis, Anything Goes_, and, I don't know, a little play called _Evita_?"

Kurt had to stop walking for a minute. He didn't believe in God, and this was the reason why. No God could possibly be so cruel as to create the most perfect man in all the world, and make him unattainable. Kurt glanced up at the sky. So unfair.

"You know, we should hang out sometime," Blaine said casually. "I didn't think anyone else at school was interested in musical theater. Except, you know, Rachel, and uh. . ."

"Did you really kiss her?"

Okay, that was perhaps not the most suave that Kurt had ever been, but he had to know. Enough tabulating up gay and straight points. Blaine just laughed.

"Er. . .yeah. I think it was my third year? It was right after Musical Lyricism. She was crying and. . .could we not talk about this?"

"Yeah, of course!" Kurt was quick to agree, because really, he didn't want to imagine his arch-rival kissing the most perfect man in the entire world (next to Blais Zabini, of course. And maybe Jesse st. James). Instead, he brought up Quidditch, because it was a rule that every boy on earth loved to talk about Quidditch. Blaine, Kurt was sure, was no exception.

And indeed, Blaine proved the rule. Kurt knew he had to like the sport. . .he'd just made the Hufflepuff Team the year before, as an alternate Seeker. What he didn't know was that Blaine also knew the statistics and rankings of every team. Kurt spent the next five minutes just nodding his head and grinning when it seemed appropriate.

Searching for dress robes was surprisingly pleasant. Rachel was so distracted by staring at Finn that she didn't even realize that Kurt had manhandled her into a very flattering dress, that truly accentuated her lithe, tiny figure. Blaine was still going a mile a minute about Quidditch, and distracted Finn enough that the seamstress got all of his measurements _before_ he managed to fall off the stool for once. Kurt even found an acceptable pair of cufflinks.

"Dumbledore, I'm glad that's over," Finn huffed as they poured out of the shop. "Three Broomsticks?"

Rachel and Blaine agreed immediately, of course, though Kurt took another moment to consider. It wasn't that he disliked the Three Broomsticks – everybody _liked_ it – but he had agreed to meet up with Mercedes later, and she was almost certain to be in Zonko's. Then again, he got to hang out with his best friend all the time, and surely some family bonding time was in order. . .

"Okay," he said. So they tromped in. Rachel and Blaine grabbed a table, while Finn went to grab them some butterbeers. Kurt excused himself to use the restroom. He could _feel_ the way that his hair was flipping every which way, and the fact that he'd been tromping around outside all day simply wasn't an excused to be less than perfectly coiffed. Sure enough, when he saw his reflection in the restroom mirror, he had to sigh. Completely disheveled.

After ten minutes of trying to tame his wild tresses (really, there were about five strands that refused to go where they belonged, even after he'd magicked them thoroughly) he realized that he'd better just give up. He was just about to turn and leave when the door banged open, and the massive kid from Durmstrang walked in. What was his name again? Dave?

"Hey, fag," he said, and Kurt's heart instantly sank. So it hadn't just been a weird, PTSD moment, then. It had really happened. The Neanderthal had shoved him over just because of his sexuality. He couldn't stop the sneer from coming over his face.

"You're such an ignoramus," he hissed, and tried to brush past the other boy. Dave Karofsky, however, reached out one meaty forearm and shoved him back against the wall. Kurt gasped sharply as pain flared up from where his spine met the hard bathroom wall.

"Saw you checking out Jesse, fairy," Karofsky hissed. "And I just want to make sure you know to keep your eyes to yourself."

"What, jealous?" Kurt asked. One side of his brain was yelling at him to shut up, just _shut up_, but the other side was way too angry. "Wish you could get anyone to check you out?"

"I'm not. . .what. . ." Karofsky seemed genuinely confused. "I just don't want you infecting someone."

"Then why are you standing so close?" Kurt sniped. "Shouldn't you be afraid of catching the gay?"

Karofsky jerked at that, his forearm pressing more forcefully into Kurt's neck. He gagged a little, and realized he could only get in a thin stream of breath through his nose. Little black specks were dancing in his vision.

"What's that?" Karofsky grinned. "Finally done talking? Finally learned to shut up?"

The black spots were intermingled with white, now, and Kurt realized, with a sinking feeling, that he really might die there. It was the worst feeling ever. . .absolutely no dignity. Some drunk wizard would walk in and find his dead, cold body. . .probably lying in a puddle of urine. . .really, not the way he'd ever planned on going.

The door creaked open then, and Kurt could just hear a familiar voice through the buzzing in his ears. "Hey, Kurt, are you all. . ." The voice trailed off. Kurt tried to respond, but Karofsky's arm was still crushing his windpipe, and it was totally going to bruise (if it didn't kill him). Kurt was pretty sure that there wasn't enough concealer in the world to hide the purple marks that would no doubt appear on his neck.

And then, abruptly, the arm was gone, and Kurt could suck in air again. It burned a little, but he breathed deeply anyway. His knees gave way, and he sank down to the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Blaine was standing over him now, his fists clenched and breathing heavily. My knight in shining wizarding robes, Kurt thought, a little fuzzily. Except that they still couldn't use magic off school grounds, and Karofsky was almost a foot taller, and probably a hundred pounds heavier. Oh dear, Kurt realized. We're both going to die.

"Just teaching the butt boy a lesson," Karofsky said. And that really set Blaine off. He leapt across the bathroom, shoving Karofsky hard against a sink. Kurt caressed his neck with his fingers. The skin felt hot and tender. He hissed a little.

"There is nothing wrong with being gay," Blaine whispered, his voice sounding almost deadly. "Kurt is an extraordinary person. And you. . .you're just ignorant. And scared. Because when we're out of school, Kurt's going to be successful, and Jesse's going to be successful, and you're going to be scooping up dung on. . ."

Kurt must have died. Or passed out. It had to be a dream. It was the only explanation. Because one minute Blaine was issuing a diatribe, nose just inches from Karofsky's own, his arms trembling with either anger, or the effort of pushing at the bigger boy, and the next minute Karofsky lunged forward, not to push Blaine back, but to crush their lips together in a kiss.

Weird, Kurt thought. And a little kinky. He'd never really thought he was into that kind of thing.

Except then they pulled apart. Karofsky looked absolutely _terrified_, shoving Blaine off his chest and running out the door. Blaine just lowered his head, and grabbed onto the sink as if it were the only thing holding him up. Kurt stood up, wincing a little as a shot of pain ran down his back.

"B-Blaine?" he asked, his voice a little shaking. "Are you. . ."

"I'm fine," the other boy said, but he didn't look up. "Are you okay?"

"Well, my skin is going to turn a glorious shade of purple and black tomorrow, but I'm okay," Kurt said. "Thank you."

"It's fine," Blaine said, but when he turned and walked toward the door, Kurt realized that it definitely, definitely wasn't. The older boy paused at the door. He raised one hand, and without looking back said

"Kurt. Please. Promise me you won't tell anyone about this. _Please_."

So Kurt promised, and they went back outside.

**A/N: Phew. Always need to throw in a little angst. KISS SWITCH! Bam. Partially, because I am a fan of Blainofsky. I just feel like he's a little stronger than Kurt, so the relationship wouldn't be as abusive. Also, apparently I just ship Blaine with anyone. Seriously considering a crack!fic in which each chapter is another Blaine ship. Just imagine it. . .Blainttany, Blinn, Blue Sylvanderson, Blill/Waine. . . .it's genius, I tell you, genius!**

**COMING SOON: Bum Bum Bum. . .the first task! Also, the first Quidditch match of the season, which will obviously be Hufflepuff v. either Gryffindor or Slytherin, haven' decided yet. Also, Kurt finds ANOTHER guy to crush on, Finn and Rachel get a little closer, Sam tries his hand at dating three girls, and Jesse wears leather. **


	7. The First Task

13:57

**A/N: So. . .none of the things that I earlier posted I the COMING SOON section happen here. But they will! I promise! **

After Rachel realized that Kurt had figured out her clue, she spent the next week straight with him, trying to figure out what it might actually _mean_. Unfortunately, Kurt couldn't get past the fact that it was an egg, and something to do with either Vogue or Marion Cotilliard. Neither of those things seemed particularly conducive to a Task for the Triwizard Tournament, however. Meanwhile, Rachel who was high strung to begin with, after Figgins announcement.

Turns out, it really is totally against the rules to have so many Champions. So instead of just scoring each competitor, this year the lowest scoring competitor at each Task is kicked out.

Needless to say, Rachel's strident voice had been heard quite a lot.

Blaine, meanwhile, had become a lot quieter, and a lot more distant. Kurt tried to corner him once, to talk about it, but he just shrugged it off. "Nerves over the Task," he'd said, before going to join Finn and Sam. Kurt had just sighed, because he _knew_ that it wasn't just about the task.

Plus, Blaine had been hanging out with Karofsky. Not a lot, but sometimes he sat with the Slytherins and the Durmstrang boys for a meal, and Kurt had seen them whispering in the hallways. Which was. . .was weird. Because Karofsky was obviously homophobic, and Blaine was straight and Kurt had just been hallucinating in the bathroom. . .right?

Right?

The First Task was on a Saturday, and it was a perfect day outside, bright blue skies and a shining yellow sun. All of the Champions left the castle before breakfast to get ready.

"So what do you think the task is?" Mercedes asked at breakfast, yet again disdaining any fruit and just stuffing her plate full of tots. Kurt did the exact opposite.

"An egg," he said. "And no, I don't know what that means. Mercedes stuffed her mouth full of potato, and started chewing thoughtfully.

"Who d'you think is going to get kicked out? I reckon it will be Rachel. All she's been doing is practicing musical lyricism. What if they're underwater? Or have to navigate a maze? Or play a giant chessboard? Singing won't help her with any of that."

"Rachel will be fine," Kurt said. He didn't believe that, of course, but then again, Rachel had been doing the same thing as all the other Champions. For some reason they'd all been having extra sessions with Mr. Schuester. Maybe the first task wasn't an egg. . .maybe it was just acting like Lady Gaga.

That sounded way less ridiculous in his head. Still, he grabbed a pair of earplugs and stuck them in (the stadium was _far_ too loud, with the students cheering, and he refused to lose his sense of perfect pitch – besides, he could still talk to people around him, they just muffled the overall volume).

The First Task was being held out at the old coliseum, which was kind of weird, since it had been half blasted away during the second Wizarding War. Now it consisted of just a half horseshow of stands, before a massive chasm which abutted the cliff leading up the castle. It hardly seemed like the best place to have a Task. Kurt and Mercedes exchanged nervous glances before they headed in the front gates. Rachel might not be their absolute favorite person in the world, but she was still a friend, and they certainly didn't want her to get hurt. Just as they were passing by the massive tent set up on the grounds, they saw a rustling.

"You go ahead," Mercedes hissed. "I'll save you a seat."

Kurt hurried over to the tent, and pushed a flap aside. Rachel was there immediately. Huh. . .Kurt thought. She looked. . .different.

Blais Zabini's hand in the tournament was very, _very_ evident. Rachel's hair was tied up in a ponytail, which Kurt had literally never seen, though it seemed appropriate for a tournament. She was also wearing a pair of lace-up boots that reached about midcalf, and a skintight suit made out of some incredibly luxurious looking material, a deep shimmering gold that brought out little flecks of gem in Rachel's eyes that Kurt had literally never noticed.

"Oh, Kurt, thank Dumbledore," she breathed. "I'm so nervous, I can't do this, I just can't. . ."

Kurt reached out and put both of his hands on her shoulders. He had a sudden urge to just shake her, but felt like that might be less than helpful. So instead he just leaned down a little and looked straight in her eyes.

"Rachel, you drive me crazy, and you can be _incredibly_ irritating. That being said, you're an incredibly talented witch. You're going to be fine."

"Really?" Rachel asked, glancing up at him, her lip trembling just the slightest bit. "Oh, Kurt, thank you. You are absolutely right. I am just brimming with talent, and it is time that the world saw it."

"Exactly," Kurt said, trying really hard not to roll his eyes. "Is everyone else nervous, too?"

"Hardly," Jesse st. James drawled, coming over to stand beside Rachel. He was dressed similarly to the girl, except that his outfit was a dark silver, almost steel colored. Kurt appreciated it. "But you'd better get to your seat, Hummel. Blais won't be happy if he catches you down here with the Champions."

Without another word, Jesse reached up and pulled at the flap, allowing it to fall directly into Kurt's face. It actually hurt, a little, the heavy material smashing him in the nose. But that pain was nothing, _nothing_ compared to the joy in Kurt's heart.

Jesse st. James knew his name. Jesse st. _freaking_ James knew his name.

Kurt wasn't sure how he made it up to his seat, next to Mercedes. He might have floated. The only thing he knew was that he had to turn in his wand. "For security reasons" the smirking dementor said.

He sat and chatted to Mercedes for a few minutes. . .not long at all, really. . .before Figgins and Blais walked out into the middle of the field. Figgins was nodding his head, and his mouth was flopping open and closed, so Kurt assumed that he was speaking, but the harsh wind blew his words away. Blais just stood there and let him talk. When the headmaster was finally finished, the fashion designer lifted his own wand.

"The Task today is simple," he said. "The Champions must simply rescue an egg from whichever magical beast is guarding it. Assignments have randomly been chosen. We'll be going in the following order. First, Durmstrang Champion, David Karofsky will take on a minotaur. Then, Hogwarts Champion Rachel Berry will take on a chimera. Beauxbatons Champion Quinn Fabray will have to get past a harpy. Durmstrang Champion Jesse st. James must overcome a Blast-Ended Skrewt, and finally, Hogwarts Champion Blaine Anderson must defeat a hydra."

"That's so unfair!" Mercedes gasped. "A blast-ended Skrewt? Seriously He can just _step_ on it. And Rachel has to do a chimera . . .those things are _dangerous_."

Kurt couldn't even answer. He was busy clutching at the ends of his seat. He was beginning to see why they'd had to turn in their wands. . .otherwise he'd have been casting every protective spell that he knew over his best friend.

And really, what had been the point in that clue? It was absolutely no help whatsoever.

Azimio cheered loudly when Karofsky stepped onto the field, while the rest of the Hogwarts students just clapped politedly after McGonagall glared at them. Professor Flitwick, meanwhile, walked the minotaur onto the field. Kurt had to bite back a chuckle, because the matching was just too perfect. The minotaur, grotesque and ginormous as it was, was only a bit larger than the hulking Durmstrang student. As soon as Flitwick released it, they just stood for a minute, peering at each other, sizing one another up. And then, unbelievably, they both ran forward and began to _wrestle_.

"Is he _insane_?" Mercedes shrieked. "He's a _wizard_. Why isn't he using his wand?"

Kurt couldn't answer, he could just shrug helplessly. Because as strong as Karofsky was, as oversized as he was for a human, he was still just a human, and was no match for the half-bull monstrosity. All of the students were on their feet after one particularly nasty throw, when Karofsky bounced – actually bounced! – off the side of the stands.

"Where are the teachers?" Kurt yelled. "Won't somebody help him?"

xxx

Meanwhile, inside the Champions tent, four of the young wizards were listening to the screams and angry grunts with terrified expressions on their faces. Only Jesse seemed calm, legs crossed as he filed his nails.

"Oh my Dumbledore," Rachel hissed. "Did you hear that? What's going on?"

"It sounds like he's being absolutely thrashed," Quinn whispered.

"Guys, stop worrying," Blaine said. "Just remember to do this _your_ way. You'll be fine. Figgins isn't going to let us get hurt."

Rachel wondered if Blaine was talking about a different Headmaster.

Xxx

It wasn't until the minotaur had knocked Karofsky entirely unconscious that Flitwick finally walked back onto the field. With a few quick flicks of his wand he had the minotaur back in chains again, and started dragging it off the field. Madame Pomfrey dashed out and levitated Karofsky's unconscious body off the field.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Mercedes gasped. Kurt shrugged. He wasn't particularly certain that he cared at all.

Rachel walked out next, to face the chimera. Mercedes and Kurt both inched forward in their seats, clutching anxiously at one another. On Kurt's other side, Sam, Finn, and James stopped playing whatever Quidditch mini-game they had conjured to watch the Hogwarts champion.

Kurt knew that his complexion was bad – his nose was red from the wind, and his veins would be standing out in bright blue against the pallor of his skin. But, looking down at tiny, tiny little Rachel facing off against the monstrous snake/lion/scorpion standing across from her, he didn't care. His friend looked absolutely terrified. As the chimera began lurching toward her on its unsteady lion legs, she didn't move, not even to lift her wand.

"Why isn't she doing anything?" Sam hissed. Mercedes squeaked and covered her eyes, muttering "I can't watch, I just can't watch."

Finn glanced at Kurt. It was surprising to see an expression of concern on his brother's face. . .Finn usually just looked confused, or occasionally befuddled, but never worried. Kurt opened his mouth – he didn't know what he was planning on saying. Maybe words of encouragement, maybe false assurances that Rachel would be all right. . .he opened his mouth, but no words came out. The chimera was nearly at Rachel now, and it lifted its scorpion tail.

"Sing!" Finn suddenly screamed, his words echoing in the silence of the stadium. "Rachel, sing!"

Kurt turned to biff his brother upside the head, beause of all the asinine advice he could have given, _singing_ was probably the worst. But of course, because it was Finn, and because Rachel was still horribly in love with him, she did what he said. She opened her mouth and began to sing.

"_Hands touch, eyes meet_

_ Sudden silence, sudden heart_

_ Hearts leap in a giddy whirl_

_ He could be that boy, but I'm not that girl_

Kurt held his breath, because he recognized the song, and recognized the chord progressions. She wasn't just singing. . .she was casting a spell. Even as he recognized it, he felt tears prickle at his eyes, felt a gentle sob wrack his body.

_ Don't dream too far_

_ Don't lose sight of who you are_

_ Don't remember that rush of joy_

_ He could be that boy, I'm not that girl_

He looked down and realized that he was tightly grasping Mercedes hand in one of his, and Sam's in the other. As he glanced around the stadium, he saw that everyone was fighting back tears. Looking down again, he saw that the chimera had paused, and was glancing down, as if fighting its own tears.

_ Every so often we long to steal_

_ To the land of what might have been_

_ But that doesn't soften the ache we feel _

_ When reality sets back in_

Before Rachel could even finish the song, the chimera walked up to her, and butted its head against her, like a cat looking for food or affection. Rachel stiffened, but after a long moment, reached out and scratched behind the chimera's eagle feathers. Kurt let out a long breath in relief. Below him, Rachel and the beast nuzzled for a moment before she strode confidently across the perch and picked up the egg, holding it triumphantly over her head.

The arena burst into cheers.

Kurt leapt to his feet, throwing his arms around Mercedes. Turning, he hugged Sam, and then Finn. When he turned around to the scene, Flitwick was leading the chimera out a side door, and Professor Schuester was enthusiastically hugging his young protégé.

"That was _amazing!_" Mercedes exclaimed.

"She may be annoying, but she sure can sing," Kurt agreed.

The next two matches were decidedly less exciting. Quinn walked out and sang the same piece she had performed on the first day she'd joined Musical Lyricism. The harpy stared right at her as she walked across the field, but made no move to attack her. There was one, slightly scary moment when Quinn tripped and lost the melody for a moment, but she quickly recovered and picked up her own egg.

Jesse st. James stepped on the Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Then Flitwick walked in the eight-headed harpy. Kurt sucked in a quick breath. He'd never been particularly fond of snakes, and this one was particularly terrifying. It had to be as big as a house, and each head moved independently of the others, so that they seemed to wave a strange ballet in the air. When Blaine walked in, he looked even more like a midget than usual. A sick feeling settled into the bottom of Kurt's stomach.

"Don't worry, dude," Sam said with a grin. "Blaine's awesome at magical singing. He'll just hum a tune and make it through."

That was when Kurt noticed the guitar slung across Blaine's back. He hadn't known that the Champions could bring props in with them, but he supposed it was fair. Maybe Blaine had substituted his wand for the guitar.

As the hydra began slithering toward him, Blaine lifted the guitar and began strumming it. His body was relaxed, and he looked as confident as Kurt had ever seen him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

_ "He knows it's time to make a change here_

_ And time to get away_

_ He knows it's time for all the wrong reasons_

_ Time to end the pain_

_ But he'll sleep all day, sleep all day_

_ Sleep all, he'll sleep all day_

_ Why don't we sleep all, sleep all day_

_ Sleep all day, we sleep all day over and over_

Nothing happened. The hydra just continued its inexorable movement forward, it's heads continuing to dance on serpentine bodies. Blaine faltered a little, and missed a few notes in his playing. Kurt had no idea what he was doing. . .this wasn't anything they'd learned in class. He didn't understand why Blaine would be trying to improvise.

Suddenly, one of the heads struck forward, biting and snapping. Blaine tried to jump out of the way, and it looked like he'd avoided being bitten, but the broad side of the snake's head hit him in the shoulder, sending him flying into one of the arena walls. He dropped the guitar, but kept singing.

"_What a lovely day to have a slice of humble pie_

_Oh, recall all the while we used to drive_

_Here and there_

_Going nowhere_

_But for us, nowhere but the two of us"_

Kurt screamed when the snake jerked forward again. This time it did bite Blaine, it's strong jaws clamping around his upper arm. Blaine screamed, and wretched himself away. The snake was left holding just his robe, one arm slightly tattered. Blaine fell to the ground, clutching desperately at his right shoulder. He took a deep breath, and this time when he began to sing, his voice was shaky and desperate.

"_And we knew it was time to take a chance, here_

_And time to compromise our lives just a little while_

_And time for all the wrong and lonesome reasons_

_But time is only there on my side, I better give it"_

Kurt turned to Mercedes, to ask her if she knew what Blaine was trying to do, but when he looked at her, he saw that her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging slightly open. An unladylike snort escaped her nose. Unbelievable. . .how could she be asleep at a moment like this?

So Kurt turned to Finn, only to find that his brother was likewise asleep. As was Sam. As was James, and Santana, and the other Durmstrang boy and. . .the entire stadium, actually. And that was when it finally hit him what Blaine was doing.

"_sleep all, sleep all day_"

He was casting a lullaby, which was incredibly advanced magic, since it affected not only perception, but an actual physical response. And apparently he was doing any excellent job. . .even the professors, seated across the way, seemed firmly asleep. Which meant, Kurt realized with a sinking feeling, that nobody was there to help Blaine.

Kurt frowned. If Blaine was casting the spell correctly, though, why wasn't the hydra falling asleep? Why was it still advancing on his friend, still hissing and spitting as much as ever? He tried to think back to his Care of Magical Creatures class, and cursed himself for not taking it that year.

Excpet, he realized, he did't have to take that class to understand. Just think about a basic snake. . ._snakes don't have ears_.

At his realization, the snake's head jerked forward again. This time, the middle one clased around Blaine's torso, and yanked him high above the ground. Kurt tried to scream, but couldn't get in enough air to do it. Blaine was going to die, and there was no professor to save him. And Kurt didn't even have his wand, because he'd been forced to leave it at the gate.

As the hydra jerked its head, and Blaine gave out another long scream, Kurt leapt to his feet. He'd only done wandless magic with small spells before, lighting a fire or dragging a book over to his table, but he had to try. He glared at the hydra and yelled, as loud as he could (as if that would help) "_Dormise!_"

It was like pulling the plug out of an inner tube. The hydra slowly drifted to the ground, each head hitting the ground separately. The middle head relaxed its jaw, and Blaine fell to the ground, catching himself on his knees and hands. Kurt's eyes were huge, as he tried to stare down at his friend.

Blaine remained there for a moment, catching his breath, before he shakily stood. He hobbled over to his robe and pulled it on, before muttering something under his breath. All of the people in the stands began muttering, and slowly waking up, as Blaine picked his way around the hydra to grab his egg.

"Unbelievable," Mercedes whispered. "Did he just cast a lullaby?"

Kurt didn't answer. He was still trying to calm his breath, but watching Blaine limp out, watching the way he leaned over to one side, and seeing the deathly pallor on the other boy's face, he couldn't breathe like a normal person. HE began pushing his way through the stands, trying to reach the Champions tent.

"Dude, where are you going?" Finn yelled.

Kurt only distantly heard the results as he shoved his elbow into student's sides, and trod on fingers. Absently he noted that Karofsky had been disqualified, that Jesse had the lowest score, followed by Quinn. That meant Rachel and Blaine were in the lead, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care at just that moment.

Blaine was hurt.

Blaine might be in actual danger.

Kurt jumped over the barricade to the stands, and ran toward the tent. He pushed aside the flap and ran in.

It was empty. Kurt closed his eyes, tightly. Of course it was closed, he realized. That Champions would be receiving their scores on the field. Which he couldn't even _hear_ because of the stupid ear plugs. He pulled them out, just in time to hear Blais Zabini's magically enhanced voice saying:

"lead with a perfect 100 points, Blaine Anderson."

Kurt stood and watched as Figgins heartily clapped Blaine on the back. He wanted to yell at the headmaster, to tell him that he was likely exacerbating serious injuries. He didn't understand why Blaine didn't say anything.

And then Blaine's eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell to the ground.

**A/N: I just can't get the tone and voice down correctly for this fic, which is really irritating me. I kind of like that plot that I've mapped out (in my head, at least!) but it's just not coming across the way I want it to. Very irritating. Anyway, personal gripe!**

**COMING SOON: Invitations to the Yule Ball! Kurt finds ANOTHER guy to crush on, Finn and Rachel get a little closer, Sam tries his hand at dating three girls, and Mercedes starts acting shady. Also, first Quidditch match: Hufflepuff v. Slytherin! Hurrah!**


	8. The Infirmary

13:57

**A/N: Super short chapter. Sorry. I'm back at work, and the ten hour days are just KILLING me. Eventually I'll get more into the swing, and hopefully return to my normal, longer chapters (as well as a more regular update schedule!) **

Dinner that night verged on riotous conditions. All of the Hogwarts students were ecstatic that their two Champions were currently in the lead of the Triwizard Tournament (Hexiwizard Tournament? Kurt really wasn't entirely sure). Besides that, Figgins had announced that the problems on the Quidditch pitch had been repaired, meaning that the Quidditch competition could resume as usual. Not being a huge fan of the sport, Kurt didn't even know who was scheduled to play first. Being an astute observer of human action, however, he was pretty sure that the whooping and hollering coming from the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Houses meant that they were first up.

Everyone was in a great mood. . .or rather, Kurt correct, almost everyone. Jesse st. James was still stewing over being the lowest scoring competitor still involved. Karofsky was glaring at his plate. Santana was loudly pointing out that Blaine had been seriously injured and should have points deducted. Finn and Sam were just glumly picking at their food (which was worrisome enough – Finn was usually hungry enough that he was known to accidently devour a plate, if the second helpings weren't delivered quickly enough). And Kurt, well. . .

He wasn't sure which emotion was most present in his mind: concern over Blaine's condition, or the worry that he would be caught. After all, spectators definitely weren't supposed to assist the Champions. Blaine would probably be disqualified. Kurt might even be expelled.

He glanced up at the professor's table. Rumor had it that Coach Sylvester was able to read thoughts. He quickly imagined a pair of puppies. No change in her expression. Probably just a rumor, then.

"Hey," Mercedes said, poking him in the side. "Treacle tart. Your favorite. Why aren't you eating?"

Kurt shrugged, and grinned weakly, before taking a piece. It was hard to swallow down, with all the thoughts whirling through his head. He must have eaten enough to satisfy his best friend, however, for she stopped bothering him.

The minute that the meal was over, Kurt grabbed his bookbag and made a dash for the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey raised one eyebrow when he burst in the door.

"Don't you have somewhere else to do your homework?" she asked him.

"Did he wake up, yet?" Kurt asked, rushing his words together in his haste. Madame Pomfrey smiled a little at that.

"I told you, not until seven, at the earliest." When she saw his downtrodden expression, she relented a little. "you can go on in and sit with him. Kid sure is popular. . ."

Kurt almost skidded into the room, he was so excited. He hadn't been allowed in after the Task, and hadn't even been sure that Madame Pomfrey would let him in afer dinner. Still, he'd needed to come by, just needed to check and make sure that Blaine was still breathing, at least. Watching him faint, and knowing that he was the only one who knew. . .it had been killing him.

But as he walked into the infirmary, he was surprised to see that he was not Blaine's only visitor. Instead, Dave Karofsky sat in the only chair in the small room. He glanced up at the sound of Kurt's footsteps, his face already twisted into its near-perpetual sneer.

"Hummel," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I. . ." Kurt froze for a minute, remembering those minutes in the bathroom before Blaine came in, remembering the terror in his gut. But then he glanced at his friend in the hospital bed. Courage. "I just wanted to check on Blaine. I was really worried about him."

Dave didn't say anything to that, just shrugged. He glanced down at the unconscious boy. Kurt cautiously walked further into the room, until he was standing just to Blaine's left. Gently, he brushed his hand against the other boy's. Blaine didn't react.

"You don't know what it was like," Dave said after a minute. "To be in that arena. . .when everyone was just staring at you, having this monster attack. . .but nobody helped. Nobody lifted a hand."

That's right. In all over the commotion over Blaine, Kurt had forgotten that Dave had been the first injury. He looked at the boy a little more closely, the tight white bandage around his head, the dark bags beneath his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "I mean, that minotaur was pretty awful."  
>"I'm fine," Karofsky said. "I'm not a girl, to cry about it. It's just. . .it <em>sucked<em>. It's supposed to be a game, but it fucking _sucked_."

Yeah, Kurt thought, he was kind of inclined to agree. With the exception of the uniforms that Zabini had clearly designed, he found very little positive in the Tournament. Well, and the presence of Jesse st. James, of course.

"Whatever." Karofsky stood up, and shrugged a little, as though uncomfortable in his own clothing. "Just. . .you're going to stay here, right? Because he. . .uh. . .he's a. . ."

"Yes," Kurt said, taking pity on the other boy, who was so clearly uncomfortable. "I'll be here."

"Good," Karofsky said, running a hand through his hair. Really, Kurt thought critically, he should consider growing it out a little bit. It seemed to have a pretty good texture to it, and would help to soften his harsh, brutish features. He was so busy restyling the other boy, that he almost missed his parting words. "Someone should be with him when he wakes up."

And then, Kurt was alone. Or, alone but for the unconscious boy. Kurt settled into the chair that Karofsky had just vacated. He stared at Blaine. The other boy didn't _look_ harmed. Sure, his skin looked a little rough, but that was likely because he was just a regular boy, and didn't engage in the vigorous moisturizing routine that Kurt knew was so important. And true, there was a bit of a shadow dusting his chin and cheeks, but it was most likely because he hadn't shaved. And granted, his dark eyelashes looked like sleeping butterflies on his cheeks, and his hair looked soft and touchable, and his lips looked like pillows that Kurt just wanted to kiss and

Whoops. Let his thoughts get away with him again.

In all honesty, Kurt didn't really now what to do. Madame Pomfrey had certainly healed him up, and he'd probably be right as rain the following day. Kurt had just wanted to make sure that he was still alive, just to doublecheck, but now that he was here, now that he saw that Blaine was breathing, he didn't know what to do.

He glanced at his watch, which read seven o'clock. That was kind of weird. . .the nurse had told him that Blaine would wake up at seven, right? Kurt glanced again, just to doublecheck: 7:02. Kurt drummed his hands on the edge of the chair rest. 7:03. He brushed his bangs back. 7:04. He inspected his fingernails which were, as usual, meticulously clean. 7:05.

"Oh, this is just ridiculous," he muttered. Which was in _itself_ ridiculous, because since when did Kurt Hummel talk to himself? He reached out impulsively and grabbed Blaine's hand. Nothing happened. Which wasn't surprising, really. This wasn't an overwrought Broadway musical. People didn't just wake up from magic-induced coma's because somebody touched a hand. Hogwarts was _far_ from Broadway.

But, Kurt mused for a moment, it was kind of similar to Disney. . .he glanced nervously at the door, and then at his watch again. 7:06. He wondered what the chances were that somebody would walk in. He wondered what Blaine's lips tasted like. He wondered how Blaine would react. . .but really, he was just trying to help. And it worked in all the movies. . .

Slowly, Kurt stood up, leaning over Blaine, staring down at the other boy through fluttering eyelashes. His heart drummed, painfully loud in his chest. He was close enough that he could feel Blaine's breath on his cheek, could smell the mintiness that came with any of Madame Pomfrey's. He closed his eyes, leaned forward, and

No. No. He jerked back abruptly, his hand going to cover his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. He couldn't believe he had almost done that, that he had almost kissed Blaine when the other boy was asleep. How was that any better than what Karofsky had done? He'd _seen_ Blaine after that, seen how shaken the other boy had been, and he refused to put that look of abject terror back.

And besides that. . .Kurt had still never been kissed. There'd been a brief stint with his cousin's best friend when he was nine, but that was more in the way of experimentation. He didn't want his first kiss to be something fake, something not real.

He was shaking as he fell into the chair, glad that nobody else was present, so that he had the chance to put himself back together.

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!"

Scrap that.

Finn and Sam came barreling into the room, screaming at the top of their lungs. Clearly, neither of them had noticed his presence yet.

"Six! Five! Four!"

"Hi, Kurt."

Well, Finn at least had noticed him. Sam, however, continued to happily count on by himself.

"Three! Two! One!"

Before the last syllable had left his mouth, Blaine groaned, and slowly fluttered his eyelashes. One hand went to his head.

"Good morning, Princess Sparkles!" Sam cooed, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Blaine's head, which was half-heartedly fought off. Finn grinned, and nuzzled into Blaine's side.

"Blainey-bear!" He exclaimed. Kurt lifted one (perfectly tweezed) eyebrow. The Gryffindor boys' dorm consisted of a lot of grunting as the boys got ready for bed or woke up. An occasional whoopee cushion would punctuate the silence. Every now and again a drunken stumble would result in one boy sleeping in another boy's bunk. That was about the extent of affection. Apparently, something very different went down in the Hufflepuff rooms.

"Gerrof," Blaine grunted, shoving ineffectually at the two larger boys. "I'm injured."

"Psh," Finn said, rolling his eyes. "Do you know how many times I"ve ended up in here after a Quidditch match?"

"Or after running into a door?" Sam added helpfully. Finn nodded.

"That, too! Or the time Madame Trelawney busted my head open with a crystal ball? Madame Pomfrey's the best. . .nothing hurts afer one of her potions!"

"Here," Sam said, shoving a massive, chocolate soaked napkin in Blaine's face. "Eat this. Dinner was awesome! Everyone was celebrating because you and that Rachel girl are winning."

Kurt stood up, and tried to gather his things without being noticed any further.

"Speaking of winning," Finn said, taking a massive bite out of Blaine's treacle tart. "What happened to you? They deducted ten points because you were injured. That means you're tied with Rachel, dude!"

Kurt paused for a moment. This he did want to hear, and he didn't care if he was technically intruding or anything. He figured that he had earned it, after saving Blaine's life.

"Yeah. . .about that. . ." Blaine's eyes shifted around Finn and Sam, and settled on Kurt. "Could I talk to Kurt for a minute?"

"Totally," Finn said agreeably, settling deeper into the bed.

"Um. . .I think he means _alone_," Sam said. Finn looked confused, but allowed himself to be led out.

"Kurt. . ."

Blaine's voice was low and rough, and sent delicious little shivers down Kurt's spine. He didn't want to make eye contact, he really didn't. He knew that his face would instantly turn tomato red, and he knew that he would probably stutter, and he knew that his eyes would be screaming at the other boy something incredibly embarrassing (possible "I love you!" or "kiss me!" or "live in my house, I'll be your shelter, just pay me back with one thousand kisses").

"Kurt, what happened?"

Well, that was confusing enough that it caused Kurt's head to jerk up. Blaine was just staring at him, with those green-gold eyes. "What do you mean?" Kurt asked.

"I know you were awake," Blaine said. "I saw you. When the. . .the hydra had me. I saw you in the stands."

_Oh my Dumbledore_, Kurt's traitorous head started screaming. _Blaine noticed you. Even in a sea of crazed faces, he noticed you_!

"You were the only one moving," Blaine continued. "So you were kind of hard to miss. Did you see what. . .do you know why it dropped me?"

Kurt considered for a long moment. On the one hand, his father had always taught him that honesty was the best policy. On the other hand, he really, really didn't want to be expelled.

"I think I might have seen someone moving in the teacher's section," he said instead. Something shifted in Blaine's face, a fleeting emotion that Kurt couldn't quite identify, just there and gone almost in a flash.

"Oh," Blaine said, and his gaze dropped for the first time. "Okay then. Could you, uh, tell Finn and Sam that they can come back in?"

"Sure," Kurt said, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. He quickly walked out, and sent his stepbrother back into the room. The minute Sam had disappeared from sight, he leaned against the wall, and slowly slid down, gathering his knees to his chest.

Blaine was going to be fine. Hogwarts was in the lead for the Triwizard Tournament. Jesse st. James knew his name, and the most famous fashion designer of all wizarding time was in the castle. Everything was amazing.

So why did Kurt feel so much like crying?

Xxx

Blaine was back at breakfast the next day, looking as good as new. Similarly, Karofsky had abandoned his bandages, and everything was feeling more or less back on track.

"This is ridiculous!" Rachel fumed, stomping over to the Gryffindor table and flopping down. "Look at him. Just look at that creep!"

Yes, things were definitely back to normal. Kurt sighted along his friend's finger, unsurprised to see Finn, scuffing his feet and talking to Quinn, Santana, and Brittany. He did notice, however, that Quinn seemed more focused on Sam, who was standing right there, as well.

"Doesn't he know that _I_ have the highest score in the tournament? Me! I'm the star!"

"Sweetie, you only have the highest score because Blaine lost out on a technicality," Mercedes said. Rachel screwed up her face and looked about ready to let out another tirade, when Headmaster Figgins stood and placed his wand at his throat.

"Hello, students. Just a reminder that the first Quidditch game of the season will take place tonight. Also, Nearly Headless Nick has recently become Entirely Headless Nick. If somebody finds his head, please return it to his wandering torso. Finally, just a reminder to all students that the Yule Ball will take place in one months time. Attendence is mandatory. Also mandatory: Dance lessons with Coach Sue Sylvester. That is all."

Mercedes clapped her eyes excitedly, nearly hopping up and down in her excitement. Rachel scowled more. Kurt just sighed. Though he was always up for an opportunity to demonstrate his superb fashion, he wasn't sure that he was quite in the mood for all the fanfare and spasms of people trying to find dates. The Triwizard Tournament had only complicated things. . .the normal couples weren't a guarantee anymore.

Rachel was still glaring at Finn. Mercedes was glancing around hopefully. Kurt just put his head between his hands. It was going to be a long three weeks.

**A/N: Just as a note: Starting the Blaine Crack!Ship! story next, because I have an idea for the first chapter that just won't leave me alone. Blainttany! So look for that!**

**COMING SOON: First Quidditch match! (next chapter, for real!) Kurt gets invited to the ball, Rachel and Finn get a little closer, Mercedes is disappearing, and Sam somehow ends up dating three girls. Plus. . .somebody is on to Kurt's secret. . .**


	9. Awakening

13:57

**A/N: Yay! Lots of things happens! What joy! Also, in response to a few questions: Nothing sneaky about Kurt not falling asleep: he just had in his earplugs, which diluted the power of the song. Also. . .there is something special about Kurt coming up, and kind of pointed to a few times. Also, I don't hate Kurt. . .I actually love Kurt as a character, because he's flawed, and self-centered, and often a brat. But then, nobody is perfect. Of course, I love Blaine more, due to the yummy deliciousness that is Darren Criss. Enjoy!**

Kurt was seriously considering not even going to the Quidditch game. Despite years of living with Finn, the love of Quidditch that seemed somehow naturally instilled in every wizard in the country had somehow passed him by. Plus, it was a glowing, beautiful day outside, which meant that he couldn't even dig into his not insubstantial collection of scarves. He had an essay to do for History of Magic, and he wanted to practice some of his Charms work, anyway, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so.

"What?" Rachel squawked at breakfast. "You can't skip Quidditch! It's a Hogwarts tradition, a rite of passage for every young witch and wizard, an instrinsic component of your education and rearing at this establishment and. . ."

"Who will I sit with?" Mercedes asked with a fierce frown, her arms crossed across her chest. "I love watching Quidditch. You're telling me just to go alone?"

"You have other friends," Kurt pointed out drolly. "Sit with them."

"But I'm _playing_," Rachel whined. "Come on, Kurt it's my very first game as a Slytherin Seeker, and I need the support and well-wishes of all of my fans, particularly those who adore me for my inner qualities as well as my talent!"

Kurt did a spit-take.

"Wait. . ._you're_ playing?"

"It's all she's been talking about all week," Mercedes said, rolling her eyes. "Where have you been?"

The infirmary, worried about getting caught, stuffed up to his eyeballs with essays and assignments. . .

"Ever since that practice round, Wes has been begging me to play for them," Rachel said. "I finally acquiesced last week, after my amazing showing at the Tournament solidified my talent and superiority."

"Right. . ." Kurt sighed, and picked idly at his oatmeal. "All right," he said finally, "I'll go."

Rachel and Mercedes promptly both squealed, hopping up and down in their chairs. Rachel then muttered something about a team meeting, and scurried back to the Slytherin table. Mercedes just crooked one eyebrow.

"You know. . .Blaine will be there."

Kurt did not blush. He so totally did _not_ blush. He just reached up to fix his hair.

"I already said I would go."

"I know," Mercedes said, burying herself in her tots again, though that smirk never quite disappeared.

Just then Jesse st. James walked by, and Kurt felt his breath catch in his throat. Jesse was dressed in flawless black from head to toe, with the exception of a dove grey ascot tied around his neck. He looked absolutely divine.

"Hey, Hummel," Jesse said, his voice low and throaty. "See you at the pitch, right?"

Kurt stammered out a reply – he really wasn't sure what he said exactly – and then slowly turned his head to stare at Mercedes. Her eyes were nearly as wide as the plate in front of her, and her mouth hung open. A half-chewed tot fell slowly out between her lips.

"Oh. My. God."

Xxx

Kurt was miserable. He still didn't understand Quidditch, and it was ridiculously windy down at the pitch. His impeccably styled hair was getting ruffled. Many of the students were holding big bags of kettle corn, which went flying every time one of the players made a goal or a net or a hoop, or whatever they were called. Kurt just knew he was going to be finding little kernels in all of his clothing and robes.

He was squashed in tightly between Mercedes and Artie, which was. . .okay. Obviously, he loved both of his friends, but Artie, it turned out, was a bit of a Quidditch aficionado. He alternated between trying to explain the rules to Kurt and Tina, who for their part, just rolled their eyes whenever her turned to address the other one. Although the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students were thrown together in the stands, the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs remained strictly segregated as they cheered on their houses. Kurt tried to find Blaine in the mass of yellow and black, and finally caught sight of him, sitting next to Karofsky, a broad grin on his face. Kurt's heart sunk a little.

Until, that is, he realized that on Karofsky's other side sat Jesse st. James, who had his gaze set firmly on Kurt. Which was unnerving, but also a little flattering. Until Artie shoved a sharp elbow into his side because one of the Chasers got hit by a Bludgeon, or whatever they were called. Mercedes wolf-whistled on his other side.

"What's going on?" Kurt hissed.

"Hufflepuff is currently in the lead," Artie replied. "Finn's doing an awesome job at Keeper today. . .for once his long limbs are coming in handy. Sam's scored eight of their goals. But Rachel appears to be a much better Seeker than Tricia on the Hufflepuff team. So most likely it's going to come down to. . ."

"She sees it!" Mercedes was on her feet now, clapping excitedly and pointing to the field. "Rachel totally sees the Snitch!"

The entire stadium surged to their feet as Rachel streaked across the pitch. Kurt sighed, crossed his legs, and picked at his fingernails. This was about the seventh time everybody had stood up, and they were almost two hours into the game. Artie had told him that games had been known to last for days. He really hoped that wasn't the case today.

"Kurt! Kurt! Kurt!" Mercedes was pulling incessantly at his shirt. Kurt sighed and stood. After all, he was hardly going to sacrifice his most recent Marc Jacobs jacket just because Mercedes was over-excited. He shaded his eyes and stared at the field.

A green blur that had to be Rachel was quickly approaching the Hufflepuff hoops. Kurt's eyes widened as he saw a glint of gold just over Finn's ear.

"That isn't. . ."

"It's the Snitch! It's the Snitch!" Mercedes was chanting excitedly. "She's going to get it!"

As far away as they were, Kurt could still see the look of surprise on Finn's face as Rachel hurtled toward him. The Keeper raised one hand to protect his face, as she barreled into him, one hand outstretched for something over his shoulders. Her fingers closed, but as she ran into Finn, she lost control of her broom, which fluttered to the ground below. Finn grabbed her beneath her elbow as she hooked one knee over his broom.

It was over in a matter of seconds, and Kurt tried to will his breakfast to stay back down. Rachel raised her hand triumphantly. . .

And Finn's broom began to shake. Not just shake, but lurch wildly back and forth. Kurt bit his tongue. There was a creaking, cracking sound that echoed through the now-silent stadium, before the broom broke in half, and Finn and Rachel began tumbling to the ground.

Kurt didn't even bother to pull his wand out of his pants pocket. All that he knew was that his very best frenemy and stepbrother were going to have their bones horribly mangled if somebody didn't do anything. And, after the disaster of the Tournament, he very must doubted that any of the teachers would do anything.

"_Levicorpus_!" he screamed. Finn and Rachel's descent instantly flowed, until they floated down softly, and landed gently on the ground.

"Good job, Kurt," Mercedes said, squeezing his upper arm tightly. Kurt let out a slow, tremulous breath.

When he raised his eyes to the stands opposite him, he saw Coach Sylvester staring straight at him, her eyes blazing.

Xxx

"Look, Mr. Schuester," Jesse said, his tone condescending as ever.

"Actually, we go by Professor here. . ." Professor Schuester said, sounding incredibly uncomfortable.

"Whatever. It seems to me that we should be learning some offensive magic. Like. . .a death song. I only know one battle song, so that would also be helpful, or perhaps. . ."

Kurt exchanged a glance with Mercedes. They already knew what was coming up. Ever since he'd joined Musical Lyricism, Jesse had continuously made pointed little jabs at the inadequacy of the program. Quite frankly, Kurt was getting sick of it.

Today, however, was distinctly different. Rachel was positively beaming after her Quidditch victory, while both Finn and Sam wore sulky expressions. Blaine apparently found the entire thing hilarious, as he had walked into class making jokes about the loss, and wondering why if Finn caught the girl who caught the Snitch, they didn't get backup points. The other two boys evidently didn't find it nearly as funny, pointedly picking the last two seats in the first row. Blaine just raised an eyebrow at that, taking his own seat between Quinn and Santana.

He glanced at Kurt with a smug expression on his face, and Kurt had to bite back a laugh. Sure enough, Finn and Sam's faces fell when they saw their friend sitting with their crushes.

"Look, the lesson plan for today is all mapped out," Professor Schuester said firmly. "After Blaine's fantastic use of a lullaby in the Tournament last weekend, I thought it might be a good idea to teach all of you how to do an Awakening. Does anyone here know what an Awakening – yes, Rachel?"

Rachel promptly hopped to her feet, throwing her shoulders back and her chin up. "An Awakening is a spell that can be sung to awaken a sleeping person from their slumber. When utilized on a person who is already awake, it increases their stamina and endurance."

"Excellent, thank you, Rachel," Professor Schuester said. "Now then, I do apologize for this song. . .it can be a bit. . .ah-hem."

Professor Schuester evidently decided not to continue with that train of thought. He handed out sheet music, and then stood in the middle of the room, opened his mouth, and began to sing.

Oh, no. Oh _hell_ no. Kurt glanced down at his sheet music.

He was serious. Their Hogwarts professor was actually singing a 13 year old, tone deaf girls' music.

"_7 am, waking up in the morning_

_ Gotte be fresh gotta get downstairs_

_ Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal_

_ Seein' everthing, the time is rushing_"

Oh my Dumbledore, Kurt realized. This song was awesome. Like, really, really awesome. Wait, why wasn't he standing up dancing? He should really be standing up dancing.

_"Tickin' on and on, everybody's rushing_

_ gotta get down to the busstop, gotta catch my bus_

_ I see my friends_"

Wait. . .dancing wasn't enough. Kurt should be. . .he should be. . .jumping! Yes! So he began to jumped. Looking to his right, he saw that Mercedes was also hopping around. Suddenly, Rachel jumped on top of a chair and began singing along.

"_Kicking in the front seat, sitting in the back seat_

_ Gotta make my mind up, which seat should I take_?"

Blaine and Jesse suddenly slid across the floor from opposite directions, crashing into each other in the middle of the floor. Both consummate professionals, however, they both quickly hopped to their feet and began fist-pumping with all the vigor of a true Jersey Shore inhabitant.

Wow, Kurt thought. Fist pumping. Fist pumping was awesome. He should _totally_ be fist pumping.

"_It's Friday! Friday! Gotta get down on Friday!_

_ Everybody's looking forward to the weekend, weekend_

_ Friday, Friday, getting' down on Friday_

_ Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend_!"

Quinn, Santana, and Brittany started going handsprings across the floor. Wow! Handsprings! That was a great idea! Kurt should totally start doing handsprings!

Except. . .he didn't know how to a handspring. He did, howeer, know how to do cartwheels, so he promptly executed three cartwheels in quick succession across the floor. Finn and Sam had started doing windsprints. Blaine and Jesse were still singing furiously into one another's faces, jumping higher and fist pumping harder with each word. Mike Chang was break dancing like his life depended on it.

"_Partyin', partyin', yeah!_

_ Partyin', partyin', yeah!_

_ Fun, fun, fun, fun, _

_ Lookin' forward to the weekend!"_

All of a sudden, Kurt came up with a really, really good idea.

Even after the song had ended, all of the students were still jittery with adrenaline and endorphins. Kurt was pretty certain that he could actually fly if he wanted to.

Probably.

Possibly.

Maybe not so much.

"Okay. . ." Professor Schuester muttered to himself. "Memo. . .never have the whole group sing a song together again. . ."

Kurt was right behind Finn, Blaine, and Sam as they walked out. Evidently they'd made up.. .or all of the left-over energy from the Awakening song was coursing through their veins too quickly for them to have any semblance of control. Or whatever passed for control with teenage boys, anyway.

"All right, so the plan is set, right?" Finn asked. Kurt grinned a little. Finn was using what he clearly thought was a stealthy whisper, but with all the hissing and spitting, it was as loud as anything.

"Aye, roger, T minus fifteen and counting," Sam said, adopting some kind of a raspy voice, and covering his mouth so that it sounded like static.

"Wait. . .there's a plan?" Blaine asked. Finn and Sam both turned to look at him with horror-struck faces.

"The plan!" Finn hissed. Blaine's grin just widened. He caught Kurt, shamlessly eavesdropping, and winked.

"Oh," he said nonchalantly. "I didn't realize that inviting girls to a dance counted as a plan. Hey, Santana!" he called. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Sam and Finn just stood, their jaws hanging down to their toes, as Blaine sauntered over to the Latina's side, and began talking to her. Kurt sidled up beside his stepbrother.

"You guys are asking the Beauxbatons girls to the Yule Ball?" he asked.

"Yeah," Finn said. "I'm asking Quinn, and Sam's going to ask Brittany."

Kurt nodded absently and turned back to look at Blaine and Santana. Just because he was nosy, not because he'd been dreaming for five years of having Blaine ask him to a dance. Not because last year he had stayed in and drawn little hearts all over a notebook that said Kurt Anderson-Hummel until Mercedes had dragged him away under threat of death. No, that's totally not why he was looking, and when he saw the two shake hands (one part of his head found that a strange way of accepting a date) he absolutely did not feel let down.

"Excuse me." Kurt turned around to address the owner of the silky smooth voice, and almost squealed in joy. Because, for the third time in a week (a week!) Jesse st. James was talking to him. So Kurt promptly forgot about a pair of hazel eyes on a certifiably straight boy, because a rock god was talking to him and wearing a pair of painted on leather jeans that absolutely could _not_ be cupping a heterosexual ass.

"Y-yes?" Kurt stammered, getting it right on the second try.

"You're friends with Rachel Berry, right?" Jesse asked.

"Friends might be too strong a word," Kurt said. "But in essence, yes."

"And Blaine Anderson? You know him, too, right?"

"He's my stepbrother's best friend."

"Excellent," Jesse said. When he smiled, Kurt's knees shook a little bit. "Then I know that you have discerning tastes. Would you do me the honor of being my escort to the Yule Ball?"

He couldn't talk. Kurt Hummel had, quite literally, lost the power of speech. Jesse st. James just stared at him for a minute. His eyes were brown. They were very pretty. Kurt might have started drooling.

"Well," Jesse said after a few moments. "I guess that I'll take that as a yes."

Xxx

"What do you mean you're not going?"

Mercedes sighed, and dipped her feather back into the ink. "I don't know. . .I don't have a date. . ."

"Mercedes Jones, when has a lack of a date ever kept you from going to a dance?"

"Yeah, but in the past you went stag, and Rachel went stag, and we could just go in a group. This is different."

Kurt frowned at his Potions essay. He was beginning to wonder if he was using some kind of strange, unending parchment. No matter how much he wrote, it seemed like he had equal amounts to go. "Then we'll just have to find you a date, won't we?"

"I don't want to be your pity party," Mercedes said, dotting an I and crossing a t. "It will be fine. You will go have fun with your date, and I'll finally finish up with that stupid Arithmancy assignment that I'll be putting off forever."

Kurt sighed. He was trying to think of some kind of rebuttal, when there was a knock at the Gryffindor common room. They glanced at each other, surprised. Few people in Gryffindor had any friends outside the House, and really only Rachel ever came by. But when she did, she rapped three times sharply, twice slow, and then would begin singing. This was a simple, straight knock.

"Who do you. . ."

Mercedes just shrugged, clearly still in a bit of a snit, so Kurt pulled himself up and went to check the door. When he opened it, he was stunned to see Blaine standing outside, leaning slightly against the wall, and smiling disarmingly.

"Uh. . .what do you. . .uh. . ." Kurt really wasn't used to being at a loss for words, and this was twice now, in a matter of hours.

"Hi, Kurt, how are you doing?" Blaine asked, all dapper formality. Kurt just blinked, twice, and Blaine let out a low laugh. "Sorry," he said, sounding a bit sheepish. "I'm not very good at this?"

"Good at what?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Make that three times that he was speechless. He gaped for a few moments, and Blaine just shuffled, a bit uncomfortable, obviously. Kurt finally caught wind of something to say.

"But you're going with Santana."

Really, Kurt? That's really what you come up with? The guy you've been crushing on for five years asks to a dance – a guy that you'd thought was straight, nonetheless – and all you can do is ask about another person? Sometimes Kurt really hated himself.

"Oh, the plan!" Blaine exclaimed, sounding delighted. "Yes. I had to get Santana to go out, but not with me. With Dave."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow.

"Dave Karofsky. He's. . .well, he's having trouble coming to terms with his sexuality. But he can't hit on girls, either, and since he's required, as a representative of Durmstrang to attend the dance, I promised I'd help him get a date."

Kurt nodded. "Okay, but. . .why me? You don't even _like_ me."

"Why would you think that?" Blaine asked, his thick eyebrows drawing together across his forehead. Kurt had to force his gaze away from those expressive eyes. But then they just fell on his lips, and that _definitely_ wasn't any better. "I mean, I don't know you very well. I just thought, as the only two gay guys at school, we could go together. You know, show Dave that it's okay to be out."

Blaine was looking at him a little strangely now, and Kurt wasn't surprised. He could probably _hear_ the heart threatening to escape from Kurt's chest, and he could certainly see the bright red that must suffuse his face.

"Wait. . .you're gay?"

"Of course," Blaine said, quirking one of those delicious eyebrows. Kurt nearly swooned. He shouldn't like those eyebrows – he should find them untamed and ridiculously overgrown. Instead he found them precious. "I've been out since my second year. Wait. . .don't tell me you didn't know that?"

"I can't go with you," Kurt blurted out, the words coming together in one quick rush. "Jesse st. James asked me."

"Really?" Blaine looked delighted. "Kurt, that's fantastic! Good for you. And don't worry about me, Rachel already asked, I'll just go with you. Have fun!"

And then Blaine was walking back down the hallway, still a spring in his step, as though getting rejected didn't mean a thing to him. Which, Kurt realized, it probably didn't. He'd only been asked as a way of proving a point.

Even so. Kurt walked back into the Gryffindor common room in a daze, walking right past Mercedes. He didn't notice the expression on her face, didn't notice the way her head fell back down into her arms. He just walked up the stairs to the boys dorm, and laid out across his bed. After sixteen years without a chance of romance, the two most delicious boys in school had just asked him to a dance. He thought that if a comet hit the earth at that very minute, he would die happy.

**COMING SOON: The Yule Ball! Finn's dancing abilities result in a trip to Madame Pomfrey! Kurt discovers a dark underbelly to the Tournament, Sam ends up juggling three girls, and Kurt gets his first kiss.**


	10. The Yule Ball

13:57

**A/N: Thanks to all of the reviewers! For those of you who have expressed frustration that it's chapter ten and Kurt and Blaine are not yet together. . .too bad. Anyway, kind of a fluffy chapter for y'all today. . .a little bit of plot, but mostly just mindless Yule Ball stuff. Enjoy!**

The Yule Ball was everything that Kurt had ever imagined. Absolutely everything. The Great Hall had been transformed, so that, as a thousand twinkling stars shimmered in the night sky, a billion shining stars sparkled from the floor. The tables had been shoved aside, to make room for a dance hall. The floating candles glowed with gentle romanticism. And the clothes. . .oh, the clothes! Kurt was, of course, dressed impeccably in the latest Zabini fashion (a tribute to the commissioner of the Tournament). He'd spent two hours on his hair, and an extra half hour on his moisturizing regime. He looks as attractive as he would ever get.

He'd also spent fifteen minutes convincing Finn that yes, he absolutely had to wear the dress robes, and no, it was absolutely unacceptable to just wear his Hufflepuff tie. He'd volunteered to help Mercedes with her hair, but she'd disappeared before he'd gotten a chance to do anything.

And his date – oh, his date looked absolutely fabulous. Jesse st. James had brushed his hair back into the most debonair style possible, and was wearing what had to be Malfoy original robes. They were the absolute height of fashion.

"Find us a seat, won't you?" Jesse asked as they entered the Hall. "I need to go check on something."

"Sure," Kurt said faintly, his eyes wide as he tried to take everything in. He glided across the hall, finally settling down in a chair next to Tina. His friend had redyed her hair, to have bright pink streaks. "Hi, Tina."

"Hi, Kurt," she said brightly. "Isn't this amazing?"

Before Kurt had a chance to respond, Figgins had stood up, and was addressing the room.

"Greetings, students," he said. "I hope that you all have a fun and productive time tonight. There is a troll running around the dungeon, so avoid that at all costs. Also, whichever Weasley spiked the punchbowl. . .there will be consequences. Do not drink the punch. That is all."

"Say what?" Artie exclaimed. "Spiked punch? I am there!"

Kurt giggled. The lights suddenly dimmed, all of the stars seeming somehow dulled, except for a spotlight that shone on the far entrance.

"And now," Professor Schuester said, "presenting your Champions for this year's Triwizard Tournament. . ."

Dave Karofsky and Santana suddenly appeared in the doorway. Karofsky's deep maroon dress robes perfectly offset the trim on Santana's dress. She, Kurt noted, looked absolutely ravishing, her eyes positively smoldering as she looked over the assorted people in the hall. Karofsky looked terrified.

They were followed by Rachel and Blaine. Kurt couldn't keep his face from breaking into a broad smile. Rachel looked presentable, for once, her hair gently curled, and her dress actually presentable. It was a sparkling gold, flowing around her body like molten gold. She shimmered under the kind light of the candles. Beside her, Blaine was equally radiant, in the most dapper of dress robes, his hair immaculately styled, and his bright, charming grin washing over the crowd. Kurt thought the gold in Rachel's dress brought out the gold flecks in Blaine's eyes.

"Wait. . ." Tina frowned, and elbowed Kurt in the side. "They're all coming in with their dates. . .shouldn't you be with Jesse?"

Quinn and Finn came in next. Kurt's breath caught. Quinn looked like a Boticelli painting, all soft colors and flowing curves. Finn looked like a lumberjack beside her, even in the dress robes that Kurt had carefully picked out.

There was a pause, as all of those couples spread out on the dance floor. All eyes travelled back to the door. A moment later, Jesse st. James walked out, entirely alone, waving left and right as he headed to the dance floor. Instead of joining the other Champions, however, he walked up to the stage, and picked up Figgins enchanted wand.

"Thank you, thank you," Jesse said with a grin. "Now then, as a way of thanking you for this glorious hospitality, I'll be singing for the Champions Dance tonight. "

"_I've been alone with you inside my mind_

_ And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times_

_ I sometimes see you pass outside my door_

_ Hello, is it me you're looking for_?"

Pair by pair, other couples began joining the Champions on the floor. Tina and Mike walked out, and Artie wandered over to Sunshine, and took her hand. As Kurt glanced around the room, it seemed like everybody was dancing. Except Jesse st. James, of course. And him.

_"I can see it in your eyes_

_ I can see it in your smile_

_ You're all I've ever wanted, and my arms are open wide_

_ Because you know just what to say_

_ And you know just what to do_

_ And I want to tell you so much, I love you. . ._"

In the middle of the crowd, Kurt spotted Mercedes, and was absolutely ecstatic to see that she had made it to the dance. Until he realized that she was dancing with James Potter. Then he felt a little sick. Because, as far as he knew, she'd been single until an hour ago and. . .he'd had a date. He'd had _two_ dates, actually, and yet he was the only person in the entire hall not dancing. Except for Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Weasley, that is, but they were sitting close to one another, thighs brushing. Probably whispering sweet nothings to one another.

Sometimes it sucked to be Kurt Hummel. Blaine laughed at something that Rachel said into his ear. Finn brushed a tendril of Quinn's hair back behind his ear. Brittany giggled and leaned forward to kiss Sam. Karofsky dipped Santana, in a surprising display of footwork.

"_Hello, hello, was it me you're looking for_?"

Kurt decided to go for a walk, clear his head. He should probably be supportive, clapping his hands for Jesse, smiling just to see him, or something. But he wasn't that guy. He wasn't the guy to stand in the shadows. He was a star in his own right. He deserved better.

Instead of _demanding_ better, however, he just turned and walked out of the room. A walk would clear his mind. A walk would make it all better.

The air outside was cool and cold, and smelled of winter. It hadn't snowed yet, but the air was just beginning to hold the bitter chill that warned of oncoming winter. Kurt shivered, and wrapped his arms tighter around himself, willing some warmth. He probably should go back inside, or wear a coat. He just had to wait until the song was over, however, and then Jesse would be done singing, and would finally be his date again. That was all he had to wait for.

"He can't be giving a joke again."

"You wanted to make sure he makes it to the final round. _This_ is how you make sure."

Kurt craned his neck a little, curious. Both of the voices were familiar, though speaking in low, hushed voices. Voices that meant secrets, and Kurt very much enjoyed secrets.

"I need to know that he can sing, however. He's no good to me if he can't lift the spell."

"He's proven time and time again that he can sing. Just look at all of his fans."

"I need him tested. For all I know, the two Hogwarts Champions are more useful."

"Fine. We'll let your. ..pet. . .perform to the same standards as the other nitwits."

"NO! No. It still has to be rigged. Just. . .not so obvious."

Kurt blinked. He wished he could place those voices, so familiar and yet. . but even if he couldn't understand their words, he understood exactly what they were talking about.

They were talking about setting up the Triwizard Tournament, about ensuring that somebody in particular won. And it wasn't terribly hard to figure out who. Somebody was setting up the Tournament to make sure that Jesse won.

Kurt slid back against the wall, trembling a little. He had to tell someone. . .he had to warn someone. . .but he didn't know who. He still couldn't put his finger on who the two voices belonged to. They were a little too low-pitched, a little too different from the way that people speak in normal life. And besides, who would believe him? Who was he, to tell anyone about a rigged competition?

No, Kurt decided, he should just forget about it. Because it didn't matter. Jesse, suredly, knew nothing about it. And really, what did it matter? It was just some stupid competition. It wasn't life or death, or anything. No, he would just forget about it, just go back to his dance. He would drink some of the spiked punch, and dance, and maybe flirt a little.

Yes, he thought, that sounded like a very good plan.

When he entered the Great Hall again, Jesse had finished singing, though Kurt didn't see him anywhere else. Finn was sitting dejectedly at a table, however, so Kurt promptly went over to join him.

"Hey," he said, nudging his stepbrother's shoulder. "Where's Quinn?"

"In the infirmary," Finn said with a sigh. "I stepped on her feet during the dance, and then my elbow kind of hit her in the nose, and she started bleeding and, uh. . ."

"Well, why didn't you go with her?" Kurt asked.

"She didn't want me to," Finn said. "She just kept screaming at me to get away from her. Sam went with."

"Oh," Kurt said. "Hmmm."

He glanced out at the dancing couples again, surprised to see that Brittany was now dancing with Santana, as Dave stood alone against a wall. Blaine and Rachel were still dancing in the middle of the room, grinning and spinning one another round. Kurt sighed.

"I think that somebody's rigging the results of the Tournament," Kurt said.

"That sucks," Finn said.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed. "It kind of does."

A gentle tap pulled Kurt out of his funk, as he turned around to face Jesse.

"Hey," the other boy said with a self-satisfied smile. "Care to dance?"

What Kurt _cared_ to do was give a snarky remark. What Kurt _cared_ to do was slap the inconsiderate slumdog across the face. What Kurt _cared_ to do. . .oh, who was he kidding. Figgins had probably asked Jesse to sing the song, and he was asking Kurt to dance now, wasn't he? So Kurt accepted the hand, and rose to his feet.

"Sorry that I didn't dance with you earlier," Jesse said, the words buzzing pleasantly against Kurt's ear as Jesse swayed, their bodies pressed close together. "I know that there aren't many out guys at your school. I didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable."

Kurt's eyes instantly drifted to Dave, still standing alone, arms crossed at the side of the room. Kurt considered. What Jesse said did make sense. There was no way of knowing how people would have reacted, seeing two guys dancing together at the Yule Ball.

But, as true as that statement was, Kurt couldn't believe that anyone would have cared, or taken it the wrong way. Hogwarts students just weren't like that. Wizards, in genereal, just weren't like that. There were so many bigger prejudices that they faced: Squibs v. wizards, and purebloods v. mudbloods. Gay and straight just wasn't on the radar like that.

But it was nice, dancing with a boy at Yule Ball. It was nice, the way strong arms encircled his back, the way breath huffed, hot and heavy, over the top of his head. He'd danced at the previous balls, of course, with Rachel and Mercedes, and even a bit with Finn and his friends, but it had never been like this. It had never been slow, and so, so nice.

"Tell me about yourself," Jesse whispered.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," A pause, as Kurt tried to think of something to say. Luckily, Jesse gave him a platform. "Tell me about your friends. Tell me about Rachel."

"Rachel?" Kurt laughed a little. "Rachel is. . .well, she's one of a kind. She's self-centered and conceited, and thinks she's the most talented person in the entire world. But the thing is. . .she just might be. You've heard her sing. She's absolutely phenomenal. And she really is a good friend, when it comes down to it."

"Hmmm." When Kurt looked up, he was surprised to see that Jesse was frowning.

"Are you okay? Kurt asked. Jesse grinned, and winked down at him.

"Fine. What about your other friends? What about Blaine?"

"Blaine's perfect," Kurt sighed. Jesse quirked one eyebrow, and Kurt realized that he probably shouldn't be going on about one boy, while dancing with another. "I mean, objectively speaking. He's very attractive. . .I think every girl in school is in love with him. Look at him, you can tell. He's a prefect, and he has some of the highest marks in his class. He'll probably be Head Boy next year. And he's popular. About the only thing he doesn't do is play Quidditch, and that's just because he has a thing about heights."

"Oh," said Jesse, the words tickling the hair around Kurt's ears. "They sound. . .nice." His arms tightened around Kurt's body. He probably should have been thrilled – after all, an international sex symbol was embracing him, in full view of everyone. He should have, except that over Jesse's shoulder he could see Blaine whispering something to Rachel, and pointing at Finn. He watched as the two split up, and Rachel reached out a hand, asking Finn to dance. He watched as Blaine walked over to Karofsky, standing alone against a wall. He watched Rachel's face light up as Finn took her hand and led her to the dance floor. He watched Karofsky's hesitation before taking Blaine's hand.

The two couples should have looked ridiculous: Finn and Karofsky dwarfed their dance partners, each standing head and shoulders over the other. But the expressions on their faces were positively euphoric. Admittedly, Finn looked a bit like he'd been clubbed over the head, but Kurt knew his stepbrother well enough to recognize that expression: that was Finn thinking.

He wonders where Mercedes is. And _wow_, isn't there something horribly wrong about thinking about his best friend when he's dancing with the most gorgeous man around? Probably. Kurt should go check out Madame Pomfrey, because clearly there is something wrong with his head.

Luckily for him, the music changed right then, to something more upbeat and exciting. Seeing Finn and Rachel standing awkwardly, he begged off from Jesse and went to join them.

". . .support me for the Second Task. Of course, the Second Task is traditionally used as an opportunity to allow the Champions to confront their fear of losing that which is most precious to them, so it is entirely possible that you won't be watching from the stands at all!"

Rachel was, of course, talking. Finn was just blinking.

"Way to mix business with pleasure, Rach," Kurt said, casually bumping her on the side.

"Kurt!" Rachel shrieked, turning and throwing her arms around him. Kurt raised one eyebrow. Finn shrugged.

"I think she had some of the spiked punch," he said. "She's a clingy drunk."

Just then, Santana and Brittany appeared, grinding and dancing to the music. Santana was crying into the blonde girls' neck, while Brittany appeared to be. . .undressing. Interesting.

"Weepy drunk," Finn explained, jerking a thumb toward Santana. He redirected the same thumb to point to Brittany. "Slutty drunk."

"Oh," Kurt mused. "I wasn't aware that there were drunk archetypes."

"I don't know what that means."

Kurt just sighed, and tried to gently pry Brittany off his backside, which she had begun to hump rather enthusiastically.

"Hi, Kurtsie!" she cried enthusiastically. "Are your lips as babysoft as your hands?"

Kurt couldn't really understand what happened next. One second he was trying to keep Brittany's thighs from touching his ass, and the next her lips were suddenly on his, and - oh, gross, was that her tongue? He was too confused and shocked to push her away. He just stood there and let her kiss him. When she finally pulled back, it was with a loud _smack!_ and a delighted giggle.

"Your lips are delicious!" she exclaimed. Then Santana slapped him, screeching something about "_culo_" and "_malvado_" and "_pinche pendejo_" and Kurt really didn't know what was going on. Except that he'd had his first dance with a boy and his first kiss in the same night. Granted, the dance had been less than amazing, and the kiss had been with a girl, but. . .even so, Kurt Hummel was going to count the night a total success.

**A/N: Clearly, Kurt is having too good of a time. This must be stopped! Have no fear. . .twill be angst coming up soon.**

**COMING SOON: The Second Task! Sam ends up juggling three girls, Blaine must face his biggest fear, and Kurt decides that it's time to do some investigating.**


	11. Protection

13:57

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews! It's such a bright spot in the day, to log on to the computer and see reviews. What joy! What glee! And I am very sorry about the slower updates. . .work is hard, I want to go back to college! Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

Kurt wakes up on Monday morning with a smile on his face, a warm, buttery feeling in his stomach, and his mouth full of hair. Which is strange, because the last time he checked, he didn't have hair long enough to infiltrate his mouth. He spat once, twice, and then just gave up and sat up.

"Kurt!" Rachel Berry sat back, a pleased expression on her face. Kurt glanced around at the other boys in the dorm. Most of them were still asleep, but James was awake, as was Hugo, and they were both staring at the girl with shocked expressions on their faces. Kurt sighed. Hugo burst into a bright grin.

"Dude!" he said, pointing a finger at Rachel, "you snuck a _girl_ in! That's so badass!"

"Don't even try it," James said wryly. "Aunt Hermione will ground you for the entire summer."

"Yeah," Hugo said reverently, "but Dad would think it's _so_ _cool_."

"Shut it, Weasley," Kurt said absently-mindedly, before turning to the girl still perched chipperly at the edge of his bed. "Rachel, _what_ are you doing in the boys' dormitory?"

"Oh, yes." Rachel folded her hands primly on her lap. "We just received the clue for the second task, and I was hoping that you could help me parse it out."

Kurt just groaned. "Rachel, it is 5:30 in the morning. And you are in the Gryffindor _boys dorm_."

"Kurt, this is about the Tournament. This is more important than those silly school rules!"

"_It's 5:30 in the morning!"_

"You'd better get out of here," James said. A few of the other boys were beginning to shift and mumble in their sleep. "Kurt's incredibly cranky when he doesn't get his nine hours of beauty sleep."

"Nine point five," Kurt groused, already leaning over and sinking his head back into his pillow. His nice, fluffy, feathery pillow. Sleep is incredibly important to maintain healthy skin. He absolutely can't pull off the tortured artist look, with the bags under the eyes.

"But Kurt, you're my best friend. . ."

"I'm your best friend in three hours," Kurt said decisively. "Right now you're the obnoxious, female Slytherin currently in the wrong dormitory."

"Fine," Rachel said, moving and sitting on the bay window. "I'll just wait here until you're ready to deal with me."

Hugo looked ecstatic at the proposition. James looked irritated. Kurt just sighed, and swung his legs over the bed. He stood up and glared at Rachel. If his eyes ended up being bloodshot or he got so much as one zit, Rachel Berry was going to pay for it.

"Let's go," he hissed, promptly stalking out of the room.

"You're still in your pajamas," Rachel pointed out helpfully. "Maybe you should put on your normal clothes."

Kurt ignored her. It was far too early to be up, he hadn't had his coffee, and he was having to deal with a diva tantrum far too early. He should be given sainthood for this. Instead he stomped out the door, ignoring her protests at leaving the comfy common room with its "delightful fire."

He headed straight down to the kitchens, knowing that some of the house elves would give him coffee. Rachel just seemed pleased that he'd actually woken up, and was practically skipping along beside them.

"I just want you to know, I'm only doing this for you because you went to the dance with Blaine after. . .hey, wait a second! Blaine's gay!"

"Oh," Rachel said, her eyes shifting nervously. "Did you finally. . .uh. . .figure that out?"

Kurt glared at her, his eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. . .you knew! All those years that I was wondering and freaking out. . .and you knew he was gay!"

"He. . .might have said something about that," Rachel said. "After I kissed him."

"Might have? You said he just said that you weren't his type!"

"Well, I. . .I was looking out for you!" Rachel protested. To her credit, she did look genuinely upset. Then again, Kurt had seen her reduced to tears by her own singing, so he wasn't about to assume credibility. "I knew how much you liked him, and. . .I just thought it was easier. . ."

"What _exactly_ did he say?" Kurt asked.

"I said, sorry, Rachel, but I'm gay. Definitely, 100% gay."

Kurt froze. Beside him, Rachel froze. Oh no, Kurt thought. Oh no no no no no. Of all the humiliating, horrible things that could possibly happen, this had to be the worst. It was always embarrassing to have someone find out he'd been talking about them. But this was a billion, quadrillion times worse. Because not only had Blaine caught them talking behind his back, he'd also caught Kurt in the morning, before his moisturizing routine, and before he'd styled his hair. He was still wearing his silk pajamas. And his bunny slippers!

Kurt turned around slowly, and groaned. Because Blaine looked as delicious as ever. He only had on his slack and a whit et-shirt, not yet in full uniform, but at least dressed like a normal person. His hair was still rumpled and curly, which Kurt. . .oddly liked. He'd always respected Blaine's impeccable styling, but there was something about seeing him half-ready that was gorgeous. There was a spark in his hazel eyes, and his lips were slightly quirked.

"Oh my Dumbledore," Kurt whispered. "I had no idea you were there."

"Obviously," Blaine said. "What are you two doing down here?"

"Nothing. . ." Rachel said slowly.

"Rachel wanted help figuring out the second clue," Kurt said sharply. "And I refuse to try and force my brain into functioning without coffee."

"Same here," Blaine said with a grin. "Shall I make you a grande non-fat latte?"

Kurt froze. Absolutely froze. His brain went blank for a moment.

Then he was back. "You. . .you know my coffee order?" he asked lightly.

"Of course I do," Blaine said, scoffing a little. "You think all those coffee outings with you, me and Finn went unnoticed?"

Why yes, yes, Mr. Anderson, I did, Kurt thought. Because those outings had always resulted in the same thing: he and Blaine would idly chat until Finn sat down with his hot chocolate and double whipped cream, and then the older two boys would promptly start talking sports, while Kurt quietly read a book.

"Rachel, can I get you something?"

"Oh, no," Rachel said smartly. "Caffeine stunts your growth."

"Oh, is that why I'm so short?" Blaine quipped. "Wish my parents had warned me about that."

Rachel looked consternated. Kurt giggled a little, which made Blaine smile. "Here," he said warmly, handing Kurt a full mug. "I put a little something special in it."

"Cinnamon?" Kurt guessed, before he'd even lifted it to his lips. He knew that Blaine loved putting the spice in his own coffee. Blaine's thick eyebrows lifted into his hairline.

"How did you. . ."

"You're not the only one who knows a coffee order," Kurt said. Blaine smiled again, that half smile that made Kurt's stomach do flip-flops. Why had he agreed to go to the Yule Ball with Jesse, instead of Blaine?

Blaine promptly handed Rachel a cup of tea. "Earl Grey, right?"

Oh, that's right. Because Blaine only asked him because he was a considerate, open person. And Jesse had asked him as an actual date.

"Well, I'm not even sure I'm going to waste time trying to figure out the clue," Blaine said. "Last time we figured it out, and it didn't do us any good."

"That's true," Kurt said.

"But it might be some kind of advantage!" Rachel protested. Kurt just took a sip of his drink. The cinnamon really was heavenly. He smiled a little at Blaine.

"Actually," Blaine said, lowly and conspiratorially. "I was thinking about cutting class today. Just getting my mind off everything before the competition tomorrow."

"What?" Rachel gasped, his eyes nearly popping out of her face. "But that's. . .that's breaking the rules!"

"Seriously?" Kurt asked. "You snuck into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and you're worried about breaking the rules?"

"That was different! That was in preparation for an extracurricular activity!"

"This is extracurricular," Blaine said. "It has absolutely nothing to do with a Hogwarts class."

"How will you keep from being caught?" Kurt asked. Normally, he was opposed to skipping class. But the idea of skipping class with Blaine was a bit intoxicating. He tried to imagine what they might do. Sit for hours in the back of the library, talking. . .cuddling on the couches in the Hufflepuff common room (he assumed it was cozier than the Gryffindor, since it was by the kitchens, and not in a stupid, drafty old tower). Maybe they would walk out to the lake, and just lie there, entangled in one another.

"I know a secret passage that lets out into the Forbidden Forest," Blaine said.

"You can't go into the Forbidden Forest!" Rachel gasped. "It's. . .it's forbidden!"

"Well, I'm in," Kurt said, the words out of his mouth before he really had the chance to consider what he was saying. Blaine grinned at him, and waggled his eyebrows.

Two hours later, Kurt really wasn't sure why he'd agreed to any of this. What had ever made him think that he would want to walk through the wood? He hated the woods. He hated bugs, and mud, and icky things like this.

"Isn't this awesome?" Blaine said idly. "Being out in nature like this?"

"Not especially," Kurt said, because even for Blaine he wasn't going to change who he was. The other boy didn't seem to mind his honesty, however, chuckling a little.

"Do you mind?" he asked, and before Kurt could asked what he was talking about, they were holding hands. Nothing intimate, no interlocked fingers, just two hands lightly clasped together, as Blaine swung them back and forth in a slight pendulum. Kurt's heart stuttered twice before resuming, and he just hoped desperately that Blaine didn't notice.

"I don't," Kurt said. "Unless you're like Finn and forget to wash your hands after using the lavatory."

"Ew, no," Blaine said, making a face. "You're totally right, though.. . .he does forget sometimes."

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Kurt hoped he could get the mud off his boots. Granted, they were just the standard issue Hogwarts boots, but he still took care of them, tried to keep them shined and nice and clean. He had to make do with what he had, after all.

"I like this," Blaine said. "Spending time with you, I mean. I know I said that we should hang out at Hogsmeade. But we never really did after that."

"Oh," Kurt said softly. "Well. . .can I be perfectly honest?" This time _he_ didn't wait for the other boy to respond. "I didn't think you wanted to hang out after. . .after the bathroom. And Karofsky, and. . ."

"Yeah," Blaine said softly. "Dave. He's just. . .he's so confused, you know? It's kind of sad."

"I suppose," Kurt said slowly. "The truth is, I've never really been confused. I've just always. . .known."

"Yeah," Blaine said, consideringly. "But it's not so easy for all of us. And, you know, it can be hard. My dad didn't talk to me for a month after I came out."

"Really?" Kurt, feeling incredibly bold, squeezed the other boy's hand. Blaine glanced up and grinned at him.

"Anyway. Let's not talk about that. Did you see the latest issue of Vogue?"

xxx

Kurt got to Musical Lyricism a little bit early. He hated being the first person in the room: there was always that awkwardness of having to look at every single person who walked in. So instead, he just leaned against the hall, idly flipping through the hseet music that they were supposed to be working on.

Jesse was the first one to walk, complete with entourage. He winked at Kurt as he strode by.

"Waiting for something?" he asked. Kurt just shrugged. Jesse brushed his hair back, and walked into the room, glancing over his shoulder for just a moment before the door shut. Kurt straightened himself, and tried to tighten up his tie.

Azimio walked away without paying any attention to him. Karofsky, however, went out of his way to shouldercheck Kurt into the wall.

"What the hell?" Kurt asked. "I thought you were over that whole, fake homophobia thing?"

"Stay away from Jesse," Karofsky hissed. "He's not into you. And you'd better not be spying for your stupid Slytherin girlfriend."

Kurt didn't even have a retort to that, it was too completely asinine. He just stared as Karofsky walked away down the hallway. Really, what was the guy _thinking_? He obviously had some kind of a problem with Kurt. Maybe he was too _gay_ for Karofsky, maybe he threatened his sense of masculinity or something. Whatever. Kurt wasn't going to waste another minute of his life trying to figure out that stupid Neanderthal.

Though he did wonder whether he should tell Blaine or not.

As it turned out, it didn't matter, as Blaine came in, laughing over something with Finn and Sam. The Beauxbatons girls were in next, giggling and glancing at the boys, and inutes later class had started. At least, as much as class had ever started, since Jesse st. James had joined the class.

"Look, Mr. Schuester, we have the Second Task tomorrow," Jesse said. "I really think that it's important to teach us some offensive magic."

Professor Schuester sighed, and shook his head. Yet again, Kurt thought. It seeme like every session of Musical Lyricism was going the same. Jesse would insist on one thing, Professor Schue would shoot it down, and then so on and so forth. He wished he'd brought some of his homework with him. Then he could have gotten some work done while waiting for them to resolve it.

"Jesse, I've said it before and I'll say it again. Musical Lyricism is not the proper place to learn offensive work. This is a great way of doing prolonged magic, and of altering emotions, but it's just not practical for offensive spells. It takes too long."

"This is ridiculous," Jesse sneered. "This is baby magic. I learned all of this my first year at Durmstrang. If you're not going to teach me something that might actually be useful, then I simply don't see the purpose in being here."

"Nobody is forcing you," Professor Schuester said, and Kurt jerked his head up. That was new. Professor Schue looked downright angry, and glancing at him, Kurt could see that his anger was just barely restrained. Interesting. Professor Schue was about the most mild-mannered teacher that he'd ever met.

"Fine," Jesse said, stepping up and sniffing. "I'll be holding my own class next door, for anyone who wants to learn advanced magic. Kurt?"

Kurt glanced around. Rachel was biting her lip and smirking at him, while Mercedes was covering her own grin with her hand. Kurt sighed.

"No, thanks," he said, "I'm good."

Jesse slammed the door on his way out. Kurt wasn't surprised.

Blaine raised his hand. "Not that I agree with Jesse entirely, but he does have a point. Rachel, Quinn and I have the Second Task tomorrow. And we all used Musical Lyricism to succeed in our First Task, so isn't it possible that there's something you could teach us that could help?"

"Of course there is," Professor Schue said with a grin. "In fact, this just might be the greatest lesson I have ever taught, if I do say so myself. A mash-up."

Finn instantly stood up and started walking toward the door, prompting Professor Schuester to ask him what he was doing.

"I just. . .you said that we were doing some mashing," he said. "Since that's exactly what Jesse wants to do, I thought I'd go get him."

"No, Finn," Professor Schuester apparently couldn't keep from laughing at that. "A mash-up has nothing to do with fighting. It's taking two songs, and mashing them together to make one super song."

"Oh," Finn said, sitting back down. Sam and Blaine both smirked at him. "I knew that. Totally knew that."

"So what will be the inspiration for today's synergy?" Rachel asked peppily. Professor Schuester grinned, and walked over to his whiteboard. Kurt tried not to grin. Their professor, while generally an adequate enough teacher, had a distinct propensity for writing single words on his whiteboard. He probably thought that it was inspiring. Instead it made Kurt question his level of education.

Indeed, Professor Schuester scrawled one word (well, two, but the hyphen combined them) across the board.

Self-Empowerment.

"Today we'll be mashing up a Protection with an Affirmation," Professor Schuester said. "Here's the great thing. You can divide these up and use them separately, to either create a defensive spell, or to urge yourself on when you lose faith. Or you can sing them together for more power."

"Oh, I do hope that you've chosen Barbra Streisand's seminal classic 'Don't Rain On My Parade' as an exemplar of the Affirmation!" Rachel said, practically bouncing out of her seat. Professor Schuester looked chagrined.

"Actually. . ." he said, "I planned out a mash-up of Colbie Caillat's 'It Stops Today' and JJ Heller's 'Keep You Safe.'"

Kurt frowned. It just figured that Professor Schuester would force them into a mash-up of pop music. At least it was better than white rappers or 80s tunes. Or. . .gasp. . .Journey.

As it turned out, it was a pretty good lesson, after Finn pointed out that they had no way of knowing if the Protection was working. So Finn, Mike, and Artie promptly stopped singing, and began trying to zap everyone with Stunning Spells. Then Sam wondered idly if the defensive magic would also prevent physical objects. He ran to the kitchen and promptly began pelting everyone with cherries.

In the end, it came down to Blaine, Rachel, and Quinn, as the last members still singing, without hazy vision from a Stunning Spell or cherry juice running down their clothing. Which gave Kurt a funny feeling in his stomach. . .even funnier when he realized that if Jesse st. James were there, he'd still be belting it out, too. And they were the four Champions.

But then Sam winked at Quinn, and she lost her concentration just long enough for one of Artie's cherries to hit her square on the forehead. And it was really hard to hold on to that ominous sense of foreboding when Quinn Fabray is licking cherry juice off her nose.

And it's even harder when Blaine starts giggling, and a watermelon splashes across his face. And then Rachel is jumping up and down, screeching that she's won, and Mercedes is laughing as she pulls bits of cherry out of her weave, and Brittany and Santana are hugging Quinn, and Artie's kissing Tina, and Professor Schuester is standing there laughing, and Finn and Sam are high-fiving and. . .Kurt kind of thinks that somehow, this group of weirdos have become friends.

And then there's something sticky pressed against him, and he turns to his side to see laughing hazel eyes. "You were entirely too unscathed," Blaine said, as he dropped a chunk of watermelon into Kurt's hair. Which really should have pissed him off, but somehow didn't.

**COMING SOON: The Second Task, where Finn is confused, Kurt is pissed, Blaine is terrified, Jesse is smug, Rachel is oblivious, Sam is touched, and Mercedes is nowhere to be found. What could the Second Task be? Here is your hint: 1. A home of wood in a wooded place, but uilt not by hands above the eartern ground, it holds its pale blue gems. 2. I am the outstretched fingers that seize and hold the wind, wisdom flows from me in other hands; upon me are sweet dreams dreamt, my merest touch brings laughter. **


	12. The Second Task

13:57

**A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews! Keep them coming, they keep us silly writers motivated!**

The day of the Second Task dawned bright and cheery. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground and the air was brisk. Kurt considering it an ultimate success, and carefully considered which of his many scarves he would wear. On the one hand, he loved his Gryffindor scarf – he'd personally adjusted it, sewing in strips of golden thread to really highlight the colors and pick up on glints of sun. On the other hand, none of the Champions were from Gryffindor, and he supposed that he should wear a scarf in support of them. He was pretty sure that was what people did at sporting events.

But Rachel was in Slytherin, and Blaine in Hufflepuff. He left him with a pallet of black, yellow, silver, and green. Eventually he settled on a silver and black ensemble, which really brought out the grey in his eyes. He looked absolutely smashing.

He headed down to the common room, expecting to pick up Mercedes and head to breakfast. Instead, he found himself staring at Blais Zabini. Standing in the common room.

Best.

Year.

EVER.

In the three months that Zabini had been randomly showing up at school, Kurt had never actually been able to get so close to him. Up close he. . .he smelled good. Really good. There was sandlewood, and musk, and a hint of vanilla, and something else. . .something woodsy. . .

"It's my new fragrance," Zabini said. "Zablaise. In stores next April."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't. . ."

"Your nostrils were flaring." Zabini said. Kurt instantly lifted his hand to try and cover his face. That was humiliating. Zabini just smirked, and Kurt realized, a little disdainfully, that he really wasn't much to look at. Sure, his face was perfectly symmetrical, and his hair impeccably styled, but his eyes were dead and snakelike, and his hands fluttered like a pair of white handkerchiefs. Plus, his skin looked dry.

"Come on, kid," Zabini said. "You're needed in the Champions tent."

So Kurt found himself practically running to try and keep up with the other man as they headed to the stadium. He wanted to leave a message for Mercedes, he really did, but Zabini was clearly having none of it, walking at a clipped pace. Kurt struggled to keep up. Really, one of the best things about attending Hogwarts was the lack of a physical education class.

"This can't be good for my pores," he muttered irritably.

Zabini just dropped him off at the Champions tent, without a word. Kurt sighed. His respect for the famous designer was rapidly diminishing. Still, he was intrigued to see what was going on, so he walked in to the Champions test.

"Dude, Kurt, what's going on?" Finn's confused face was the very first to meet him, followed by an equally confused Sam.

"I have no idea," Kurt said honestly. "Did they say anything to you?"

Finn didn't get a chance to answer, because Headmaster Figgins walked in at that moment, raising his eyebrows at them. "Okay, okay," he said. "So you three are the most-valued people in the Champions lives. . .or at least, the most-valued people that we could get a hold of in such short notice."

Kurt frowned, and raised his hand. "But there are four Champions, and only three of us," he pointed out.

"Yes, yes," Headmaster Figgins said, nodded his head over and over again. "Unusual circumstances. What you need to know is that nothing will happen to any of you. Probably. The Champions will think that you are in mortal danger, but have no fear, everything is well under control."

"So we're going to be in fake mortal danger?" Finn asked.

"Yes," Headmaster Figgins said decisively. "That is a very good way of putting it."

For some reason this seemed to please both Finn and Sam. Kurt, however, maintained his frown. Obvoiusly one of them was bellowed by two Champions. He had to assume that was Finn. . .Kurt had no doubt that he was there for Rachel, but maybe for Quinn as well. They had gone to the Yule Ball together. And Sam was probably there for Blaine, since they were best friends. Which meant he was the most-treasured person in Hogwarts for Jesse? Somehow that just didn't seem right. . .shouldn't one of the goons from Durmstrang be there?

Just then the tent opened, and the four Champions walked in. Once again they had been outfitted in Blais Zabini outfits, this time in four jewel colors. Kurt viewed them critically. Quinn was in emerald green, which was an excellent choice, he thought, since it brought out the green in her eyes. The form-fitting suede didn't hurt her figure any, either. Rachel was in sapphire, and Blaine in a deep ruby. Jesse was once again in silver.

"Finn, Sam, Kurt, hi!" Blaine said enthusiastically, slapping his two best friends on the back and winking at Kurt. "What are you guys doing here?"

"They're here to support us, obviously," Rachel trilled. "What a lovely effort you've put forth!"

"Actually. . ." Sam started, but before he could finish, Rachel and Jesse were both shushin him, running to look out as Figgins and Zabini introduced them.

"Traditionally, the Second Task builds on the first one. Another struggle for our Champions, except that this time, in addition to having to best their foe, they must also protect something which is very treasured to them. Usually all four Champions go at the same time, but this year we're having to. . .alter it. So up first, in third place, we have Ms. Quinn Fabray!"

Kurt instantly began clapping, and turned to grin as Quinn stepped out. She looked a bit nervous, at least in the eyes, but was still cool and collected.

"Dude. . ." Finn whispered. "Where's Sam?"

Kurt just waved his hand at his step-brother, willing the other boy to step off. Admittedly, he wasn't terribly nervous for Quinn. Although they were both in Musical Lyricism, they weren't very close, the other girl clearly thinking that she was too good for him. Still, it would give him some idea of what Blaine and Rachel would be facing, and he was more than terrified for them.

Blaine and Jesse came to flank Kurt, one on either side. Jesse pat him absently on the shoulder. Kurt glanced at Blaine, whose face was unnaturally pale. Blaine's gaze was focused straight ahead, as he bit his lip.

He didn't know where the courage came from. . .maybe just seeing Blaine looking so lost, maybe the rush of being in the Champions tent, maybe just the fact that he was feeling a little light-headed from missing breakfast. Either way, he reached down, and grabbed Blaine's hand, giving it a quick squeeze. His heart fluttered when Blaine turned and looked at him with that special half grin. Kurt knew he was blushing when he turned to look back in the stadium.

At first he couldn't see anything different. It looked completely empty. Except that there seemed to be a strange shadow, and a massive telescreen at one end. As he watched, the screen lit up, showing what looked like a strange nest, with something. . .something. . .

"Is that Sam?" Blaine asked, a slight hitch in his voice. Kurt narrowed his eyes and gasped when he realized that it was, indeed, Sam, sitting in the nest. His gold hair was glinting slightly in the sun. He looked somewhat shocked, and more than a little confused. Kurt tried to remember what Figgins had said – that they weren't in any real danger – but it was hard, seeing the terror in Sam's face, the way he lurched to the edge of the nest, and peered over. He gasped, and quickly scrambled back into the center of the nest, his face chalk white.

And then, a pair of massive talons settled beside him. Sam looked up and yelled. Down in the stadium, Quinn screamed.

"A griffon," Jesse mused. "Interesting. I had assumed that they would use a hippogriff, since they seem so popular in your school."

"That's probably why they didn't use them," Rachel said. "It would be an unfair advantage for the Hogwarts students."

"Plus," Finn said, throwing in his two cents for the first time, "they aren't as vicious. Griffons are known for killing humans when they get angry. A hippogriff may scratch of bite, but then it will leave."

Kurt turned to stare at his stepbrother. Finn just shrugged, a goofy grin on his face.

"Oh, Finn, you're so smart!" Rachel cooed.

"Nah. I just really like Care of Magical Creatures."

Kurt shook his head, and focused back on what was going on. Quinn was frowning now, and tapping her feet, while staring up, looking slightly perplexed. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand again. She then nodded, and began to sing in a soft, thin voice, instantly recognizable as one of the songs Professor Schuester had just taught them.

_"Quiet your heart_

_ It's just a dream_

_ Go back to sleep_

_ I'll be right here, I'll stay awake_

_ As long as you need me_

_ To slay all the dragons_

_ And keep out the monsters_

_ I'm watching over you_"

As she sang, a gentle blue light began to glow around her, and around Sam, up in the nest. Her face still and composed, Quinn slowly pulled her wand out of her back pocket. The blue light shimmered as she ceased her singing long enough to flick her wand and whisper "_Levicorpus_" but quickly reappeared as she resumed her singing, lifting slowly up off the ground.

_"My love is a light_

_ Driving away all your fear_

_ So don't be afraid_

_ Remember I made a promise to keep you safe_."

When she reached the nest, she gingerly stepped over the top, and grabbed Sam in a tight embrace. From below, however, it looked like Same was the one comforting her, brushing down her blond hair. Above them, the griffon began to scream.

"Griffons particularly hate women," Finn stated helpfully.

"Mr. Anderson," Headmaster Figgins said, popping his head in. "Could you come with me, please?"

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand, one more time, before the other boy walked off. And maybe he imagined it, but he thought that Blaine's fingertips trailed along his for a bit longer than strictly necessary. Kurt tried really hard not to sigh, he truly did, but it came out anyway.

Sue him. He thought the gentle brush of fingertips was the most romantic thing out.

When he turned back to the stadium, to the video playing on the telescreen, he saw Quinn shaking her head viciously. He licked his lips and looked at the clock. Seven minutes. Only seven minutes so far, not so bad. Then, unbelievably, Quinn handed her wand over toe Sam. Rachel clapped her hands.

"This is fantastic!" she exclaimed. "If Sam does some of the magic, Quinn will be sure to be docked points!"

Sure enough, it was Sam that flicked the wand, and began levitating them both down. And – oh – that made sense. The protection from Quinn's spell couldn't last if she wasn't singing, and they were both in to much danger, beneath the griffon's flashing talons, for her to have stopped, even long enough to cast such a simple, first year spell.

When they were on the ground they embraced once again, quickly, before returning to the tent. Kurt let out his breath. That hadn't been so bad, really, although, from the telescreen, it looked like the griffon was getting progressively angrier.

"Quinn, that was a marvelous performance," Rachel congratulated the other girl.

"Dude, mega badass!" Finn congratulated Sam, slapping the other boy on the back. Kurt just gnawed on his second knuckle. Figgins walked back to the middle of the stadium.

"The scores are just in. . .after retabulating for the assist from Mr. Evans. . .no, no, the judges did not disqualify her. . .a total of 52 points for Ms. Fabray. Now, our fourth place contestant, Mr. Jesse st. James!"

Kurt's eyebrows knit together as he turned to look at Jesse. He'd assumed that he'd been brought to the tent to be Jesse's "most-treasured" person, but that clearly wasn't the case. And hadn't Blaine just been called out of the tent to take on the test? He hoped nothing was wrong. . .

He moved on to his second knuckle.

Jesse walked out into the middle of the stadium, waving and blowing kisses to the audience. The telescreen went blank for a moment, presumably as somebody entered the nest. When it turned back on again, Kurt felt his knees buckle, and grabbed on to Finn's shirt sleeve to keep from falling to the ground.

Blaine was in the nest.

He was curled up in a tight ball, his eyes squeezed shut, shaking a little. All of the color had completely drained from his face. Kurt felt sick.

_"I have a horrible fear of heights. It's true! Absolutely terrified!"_

_ "Blaine's perfect. About that only thing he doesn't do is play Quidditch, and that's just because he's scared of heights_."

"Oh my Dumbledore," Kurt breathed out. Jesse was still just waving at the audience, apparently not concerned at all that Blaine was cowering in the nest, an angry griffon standing just over him. If Kurt had thought the Tournament was rigged before, he was now positive.

"Why isn't he doing anything?" Rachel gasped.

"Blaine will be fine," Sam said reassuringly. "The Headmaster told us that we wouldn't be hurt."

At that moment the griffon gave a particularly angry scream. It's furious red eye appeared on the telescreen, staring almost defiantly at the camera, before it reared back and lunged at Blaine. Screams and gasps scattered through the stadium. Blaine just barely managed to scramble back from the snapping beak. In doing so, his left hand slid off the edge of the nest, dangling in open space.

"Jesse, knock it off!" Finn yelled.

"You'll lose points if he gets hurt!" Quinn added. Kurt had to hand it to the girl, that was more likely a motivating factor than any threats Finn or Sam made.

"How the hell did st. Douchebag find out that Blaine's afraid of heights?" Sam asked. "If I find out who told him, I'll strangle the loser with my bare hands!"

"Jesse, stop playing around!"

Blaine was gasping on the screen, short, hiccupping little sobs. His gaze kept shooting back and forth between the griffon, which was now rearing up on its hind legs, and the ground below him.

Jesse finally glanced up, and almost negligently flicked his wand. "_Accio_ Blaine," he said, his voice lazy and drawling.

Blaine's body shot out of the nest like lightning, narrowly missing the griffon's claws. He was plunging toward the ground now, _way_ too fast. He didn't make a sound as he fell. Kurt did, however. Kurt screamed. Loudly.

He actually started to run onto the pitch, too, until Headmaster Figgins grabbed him by the arm.

"Come with me, now, thank you very much," Figgins said. "We need to get you set up. You're next."

Blaine was only meters from the ground when Jesse flicked his wand again, muttered "_Levicorpus_," and then began to bow as Blaine's body came to a shuddering stop. He bowed three times.

Kurt was dragged out of the tent, and toward a stand contraption next to the stands. He kept jerking his head back, trying to find Blaine. He knew he was okay, physically safe, at least, but. . .oh, God, what he had to be feeling just then. All that Kurt wanted to do was grab him in his arms and hold him tight. Promise him that nothing would hurt him. Kiss away his tears and. . .

Yeah, that old crush was definitely never going away.

As Figgin's loaded him into a wizardvator, he felt intense rage and anger boiling inside him. Jesse had tricked him, at least he knew that much. Seen that he was friends with the two Hogwarts Champions and tried to squeeze some info out of him. And he'd fallen for it. Just because it was the first cute guy who had ever asked him out. . .

Kurt felt like an idiot. But more than that, he felt like he'd somehow betrayed Blaine, and the fact that the terror on the other boy's face had been _his _fault. . .

Kurt tried to shake it off as the wizardvator ground to a stop, just a few inches from the massive nest. The griffon was currently being restrained, a collar around its neck beeping red. He gingerly walked into the nest. He'd deal with Jesse later. Right now, he had to focus on staying alive, because the griffon looked _pissed_, and regardless of what Figgins had said, Kurt had the definite feeling that things might be getting really dangerous, really fast.

Curious as to which Champion was going now, Kurt crawled gingerly over the edge to look down. Figgins was back in the middle of the stadium again.

"Highly unorthodox. . .the judges would like to say that simply using "accio" to retrieve the hostage will no longer be permitted, but as Mr. st. James did not know that, he will not be docked too many points. Stil, too much hot doggery will count against him, and he comes in at 60 points even. Up next is your second place Champion, Mr. Blaine Anderson."

"Oh no," Kurt whispered. Behind him the griffon shrieked. When he turned to look, the collar around its neck promptly glowed green and it leaped over him, lion tail thrashing angrily. "Nice lion-eagle-thing," Kurt said, trying to sound placating. "Such a handsome boy."

He'd always heard that flattery would get one everywhere. The griffon just cocked its head at him. Kurt held up in hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "That's right," he cooed. "Who's a good birdie-kitty? You are. Yes, you are!"

The griffon seemed to settle down at that, sitting on his haunches and beginning to preen. Kurt let out a long breath and stared over the side. Blaine was kneeling on the ground, and even from this distance, Kurt could see that he was trembling. Kurt bit his lip, and glanced at the clock. Three minutes had passed. Still, it was probably for the best. If Blaine didn't do anything. . .if he just stood there and the time ran out, then he would be out of the competition. Which meant that he would be out of danger, and Jesse st. James could take home the trophy.

Absently, Kurt reached over and pat the griffon's foot. It leaned down and nuzzled him. Yes, Kurt, thought, this was really for the best. Especially since there was no doubt that the whole thing was rigged, anyway.

Except that Kurt's life _sucked_, so the best thing didn't happen.

Something caught the griffon's attention on the ground. It jerked away from Kurt's touch, it's red, cat-slit eyes staring down at the ground. Kurt's stomach flipflopped, because he _knew_ what that thing was looking at. The only person in the middle of the stadium was Blaine. Who was still just kneeling, hand over his mouth now, swaying a little. Kurt gasped, as the griffon beat its wings and began to fly, circling above Blaine.

Kurt didn't know what to do. He knew that Blaine hadn't noticed anything. He glanced into the professor's area. He saw Coach Sylvester lift her wand, but nobody else seemed to be doing anything. He glanced down at Blaine again.

He knew that he couldn't do wandless magic this time, he knew that he'd get caught. But he had to do something to get Blaine's attention, something to get him out of his funk. And then it came to him.

He could sing.

Kurt wasn't very good at Musical Lyricism, and he accepted this. When he sang, it was always just for him, and he couldn't seem to put on the types of performances that Jesse, Blaine, and Rachel were so good at. He wasn't any less emotional, any less sincere. . .it was just all directed inward. So most of the time he couldn't get the spells right, and there was a very good reason that he never demonstrated a new technique in class.

That did not, however, mean that Kurt couldn't sing. And it didn't mean that he couldn't sing a spell. So he did just that.

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_ Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_ All your life_

_ You were only waiting for this moment to arrive_"

Okay, so maybe a song about the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s wasn't the most appropriate song to choose. But Kurt really liked the Beetles, and the song resonated with him. After all, right now what Blaine needed most was bravery. Followed closely by the ability to fly, so that he could swoop up, rescue Kurt, and win this Tournament.

Not that Kurt needed to be saved. He wasn't some damsel in distress, locked away in his ivory tower. He was a gay boy, locked away in a stupid griffon's nest. Totally different.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_ Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

_ All your life_

_ You were only waiting for this moment to be free"_

It seemed to work. Blaine was looking up, at least. He was staring at Kurt, however, not the circling griffon, which wasn't exactly in the plan. And he was staring at Kurt with this look in his eyes – like he'd just had an epiphany, like there were stars flashing. Or like he was having gas pains, but that was far less romantic. Kurt's stomach flipped over, and he almost lost the bridge, because Blaine was looking at him in the very way that he'd dreamed, ever since his second year.

But it was so, so, wrong, because the griffon chose that moment to scream, and dive out of the air. So Kurt stopped singing, and screamed. It was so like his life, that the very minute his dream guy finally _saw_ him, he would be eviscerated by an angry lion-bird-thing. Luckily, his song seemed to have pulled Blaine out of his stupor, and the scream of the griffon alerted him to the very real danger that they were in.

Kurt expected Blaine to pull out his wand. Instead he started to sing.

_"IF you have a minute why don't we go_

_ Talk about it somewhere only we know_"

All of Professor's Schuesters warnings flew through Kurt's head – how Musical Lyricism wasn't any good for battle, because it took too long to cast, how it should only work protectively, and be set up far in advance. Blaine was going to have his head torn off.

Later, Kurt couldn't explain what he was doing, or what he was thinking. He just knew that Blaine was in trouble, and for some reason, leaning his hand out seemed like a good idea. However, it mean that he overbalanced, and promptly pitched forward out of the nest.

Falling to his death wasn't anything like how he'd imagined. The wind hit him, hard, making it impossible to breathe. It was terrifying for the first beat of his heart, but then it just kind of felt. . .normal. He felt weightless. He waited for his life to flash in front of his eyes, but it didn't. He just saw Blaine spin to look at him, hazel eyes locking to his own. He _knew_ that with the rush of wind in his ears, he couldn't hear anything but his own desperate sobs and attempts to breathe. He knew it, but somehow he could still hear Blaine, who was staring at him with a strong, almost angry glint in his eyes.

_"This could be the end of everything_

_ So why don't we go, so why don't we go?"_

Kurt could see the griffon, mere feet away from Blaine, talons outstretched. An dhe wanted to scream, wanted to so badly, to tell the other boy, to warn him, but he couldn't breathe and he couldn't scream. It was so unfair that they were both going to die.

_"This could be the end of everything_

_ So why don't we go, somewhere only we know?_

As the ground rose up to meet him, everything went black.

**A/N: Sorry, I thought I would get the whole Second Task in, but it just kept going and going and going. . .so it's divided into two!**

**COMING SOON: The conclusion of the Second Task, and Kurt tries to get to the bottom of the rigged Tournament. **


	13. After the Task

13:57

**A/N: Short chapter, but a quick update, because I didn't want to leave you all hanging on a cliffhanger for a week! You're welcome!**

"Trippy. I feel like I just traveled through a wormhole."

"Why? Because we're underground?"

"No, man, a wormhole is a rift in the time-space continuum."

"Kurt? Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt groaned a little as he opened his eyes, more for dramatic effect than any actual pain. Blaine and Finn were hovering anxiously over him, while Sam was sitting a little bit back, staring at his hands with as much wonderment as if he were stoned, or something. All of them were sitting in a straight hallway, that looked like it had been carved out of granite. It looked familiar.

Kurt sat up, and Finn hurriedly help him up. "Where are we?"

"Uh. . .we're in that passage between the castle and the Forbidden Forest," Blaine said sheepishly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "It was the only place that I could think of that was kind of a secret between us."

"Right. . ." Kurt said drolly. "So why are Finn and Sam here?"

"I'm the one who discovered it!" Sam said proudly. "We've been escaping through here to avoid detention for years."

"Yeah," Finn said, screwing up his nose in distaste. "You always have to do nasty stuff for detention. Like clean plates, or go to the Forbidden. . .hey, wait a second. . ."

"It's a teleportation spell," Blaine said. "Professor Schuester taught it to me a while ago. I though it would be a good way to get you out of the nest."

"The competition!" Kurt gasped, jumping to his feet. "We have to go back! The whole thing is rigged, so Jesse can win, we can't. . ."

"Yeah," Blaine said, a distasteful twist to his lips. "I kind of figured that out when I was stuck up in that. . .that. . ." his face began to fall apart at the memory. Kurt moved forward and took both of his hands in his own, squeezing lightly. He looked earnestly into Blaine's face.

"You're okay," he soothed. "You're safe now. Courage, remember?"

"Right," Blaine said with a choked laugh. "Um. . .let's see. . ."

"Bob Dylan?" Sam suggested, and this time when Blaine grinned there was no sadness or fright in it at all. He let go of one of Kurt's hands to fistbump Sam. He winked at Kurt, and began to sing.

"_Done laid around, done stayed around_

_ This old town too long_

_ Summer's almost gone, winter's coming on_

_ And it seems like I've got to travel on_

_ And it seems like I've got to travel on"_

Everything went black a second time, but as brief as a blink. When Kurt opened his eyes, they were all back in the middle of the stadium, his right hand still tightly held in Blaine's own. The griffon was back on its nest, and all of the eyes in the stadium were tightly trained on the four of them, before breaking into riotous applause.

Kurt couldn't keep the smile from lighting up his face, and he turned to peer at the time clock. Five minutes.

Headmaster Figgins hastened onto the field. "Fantastic job, truly inspiring," he gushed, patting Blaine on the back. "A teleportation spell, without even touching the subjects. . ." he paused for a moment, as though listening. "A few points taken off for the delay, and a few added for showmanship, and the difficult situation raised by Mr. Hummel's abrupt decision to try his hand at flying" – Kurt's neck reddened at the laughter from the stands – "and the score is. . .a 99.9! Exemplary! Well done, Mr. Anderson!"

Blaine didn't let go of Kurt's hand the entire way that they walked back to the tent. He led the taller boy to the back, where he promptly collapsed. It was only then that Kurt noticed how pale he was, how his curls were slicked back by sweat, and how he was still trembling a little.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, lowering himself beside the other boy. Blaine just shook his head.

"I didn't. . ." Blaine took a deep breath, and forced out a watery smile. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Kurt said decisively. "Tell me about it."

"Next up is our current leader, Ms. Rachel Berry!"

"We should go watch Rachel."

Blaine moved as though he were going to stand up, but Kurt reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back down. "She's just going to sing _Teenage Dream_ and convince the griffon to fall in love with her, and rescue Finn. She'll be fine."

Blaine sighed. "I really am fine," he said. "It's just. . .I used to like heights. I had a toy broom when I was little, and I wanted to be a professional Quidditch player. . ."

"What happened?"

_"Let's go all the way tonight_

_ No regrets, just love"_

"I was playing in the yard. I was practicing being Chaser, and my dad was being a Keeper. We were high up, so it was more realistic. We were both laughing and. . .I told him."

"Told him what?" Kurt asked, although he was pretty sure that he already knew. Blaine turned to look at him, tears standing out in his eyes.

"That I was gay. He. . .didn't take it well. He told me that it wasn't funny, and then he told me to take it back. I flew over to him and. . ."

Kurt's hand flew up to cover his mouth. Blaine's gaze dropped to look at their hands, still casually intertwined.

"He didn't mean it. I really believe that. He stayed with me the whole time that I was at St. Mungo's. But afterwards. . .he never looked at me like I was his son again. He just looked at me like I was filth. And ever since then. . .it's not just the fall, it's the memories of that day."

Kurt brushed the tears away from his eyes, and leaned forward to hug the other boy. Blaine chuckled a little.

"The good news is that now I'll have a different memory to help my phobia. Being Accio'ed down like a broom does wonders for getting over daddy issues."

There was applause coming from the stadium, and then Figgins voice booming, asking all of the Champions to go out to the field. Blaine stood, dusted off his pants, and helped Kurt to his feet, before turning and walking out to the pitch. Kurt followed as far as the tent, and stood there awkwardly, with his arms crossed. Sam stood to one of his sides, and Finn soon joined them.

"How did she do?" Kurt asked.

"Oh my God, Rachel is so amazing," Finn cooed, hearts practically standing out inhis eyes. "I want to get drunk with her on the beach, and then build a fort out of sheets and. . ."

Kurt lifted one eyebrow. "I think Rachel still has to work on her aim," Sam said.

"A wonderful showing from all of our Champions today! Let's give them a round of applause!" Kurt clapped his hands together, drastically trying to add everything up in his head. Rachel and Blaine would obviously be moving on to the Third Task, since they were the top-ranked in both of the earlier Tasks, but he couldn't for the life of him remember Quinn and Jesse's scores. . .

All four of the Champions were lined up, all looking significantly better than they had after the first task. This time there was no torn clothing, and nothing was singed. Blaine still looked a little unsteady, but Rachel and Quinn were both beaming out into the audience, while Jesse had his normal smirk firmly plastered on his face.

"In first place, with 190 points, Ms. Rachel Berry!"

"I told you she's amazing," Finn said dreamily.

"In second pace, with 189 points, Mr. Blaine Anderson!"

All three of the boys fistbumped to that one.

"And finally, in third place, with 132 points, but still continuing on with the competition. . .Mr. Jesse st. James!"

xxx

"So. . .was it romantic?"

Kurt stared at his best friend, a silly smile pasted across his face. Mercedes was just lying there next to him, brown eyes sparkling. Her hair was completely loose and wild for once. The firelight reflected off her cheekbones and highlighted the brown of her eyes.

"Was what romantic?"

"When Blaine serenaded you, and then the two of you popped off to wherever to get your boy smooches on."

Kurt giggled. "You remember that Finn and Sam came back with us, too, right?"

"Scandalous!"

They both laughed at that, rolling back and forth into each other's bodies. The fire felt warm against Kurt's face, and his body was deliciously comfortable, snuggled up next to Mercedes under the old afghan.

"Seriously, boo. You were his most-treasured person. He didn't say _anything_?"

Kurt paused at those words. In all the excitement of being nearly killed by a griffon, nearly plunging to his death, and then the inevitable Gryffindor party after the Task (though why Gryffindor was celebrating when they didn't even _have_ a Champion was beyond Kurt), he'd forgotten why he'd been put in the nest in the first place. But then, on second thought, he sighed and shook his head.

"It was all set up," he reminded his best friend. "Remember that Blaine was there for Jesse, and those two don't even talk to each other. At this point, I'm pretty sure that they hate each other."

"Yeah," Mercedes agreed after a moment. "But we both know that Rachel's head over heels for Finn, and it seemed pretty clear that Sam and Quinn have something going on. Isn't it possible that Blaine does feel something for you?"

Kurt thought about it. His cheeks flushed a little. There was the way Blaine held his hand, and hugged him. . .there was the fact that he'd asked him to Yule Ball, and taken him into the secret tunnel that he'd only shared with his best friends, and then there was that look he'd gotten in his eyes, just before the griffon struck. So yeah, Kurt supposed it was possible.

But he'd also gotten his hopes up before, and it had come to nothing. There had been numerous times over the year when he'd thought there might be something between himself and Blaine, and it had never been anything more than casual friendship. So as much as he wanted to believe that there was something else there, he wouldn't allow himself.

There was a knock at the common room door. Kurt and Mercedes shared a frightened look, burrowing deeper under the afghan. Kurt quickly put out the fire with a simple "_Distingo_." They lay in silence, waiting to see if anyone would enter. It was after hours, after all, and they knew that they'd be in a heap of trouble if anybody caught a boy and a girl spending the night in the common room together.

Which was ridiculous, as anyone who knew Kurt could attest. Really, the professors' should be more nervous about what he did in his actual, assigned dorm.

The knock came again, this time followed by a nervous voice calling out, "Hello? Anyone awake in there?"

"Is that. . ." Mercedes asked, peeping her head out from beneath the blanket. Kurt shushed her, and went to the door, his heart beating quickly, a little hummingbird trapped within his chest.

"Just a minute," he called, and if his voice was a little higher than usual, well, he really couldn't be blamed. He went and opened the door.

Blaine stood in front of the door, his hair back to being immaculately styled, his robes perfectly pressed. His shining Prefect's badge was attached to his chest, and he wore a nervous smile. "Hey," he said softly. "I was doing my rounds, and I just thought I'd check and see if you were asleep."

"No," Kurt said. "Mercedes and I were just debriefing."

"Oh," Blaine said, his grin slowly sliding off his face. "Is she still. . ."

"No, she just went to bed," Kurt said hurriedly. He heard a small giggle from behind him, and hoped that Blaine didn't hear it. Or notice the suspiciously heaped pile of blankets. Or notice that there were still two steaming tea cups set out.

"OH," Blaine said again. He scuffed his feet again. Kurt found it ridiculously adorable.

"Did you want something?" he asked. Blaine sighed, and looked up to meet his gaze.

"When you sang to me," he said, his voice a little gruff, "there was a moment. I just looked at you and thought, oh. There you are. I've been looking for you forever."

Kurt's heart stuttered to a stop. His mouth hung open a little. He knew that his eyes were wide, probably sparkling, and he tried to take in a breath. Was he sleeping? Had he fallen asleep mid-gossip session again? He pinched himself, just to make sure. It hurt, and he yelped.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Kurt said hurriedly. "I just wanted to make sure this wasn't a dream."

Blaine did smile again, that bright, dazzling smile that always made Kurt a little weak at the knees. "No," he said. "It's not a dream."

Kurt still wasn't sure of that, so he decided to try something. He licked his lips, feeling incredibly nervous all of a sudden. There was no hiding from this, no turning back. It was just he and Blaine (well, and the hidden Mercedes). No mistletoe, no impending death, no Tournament or stupid, cockblocking older brothers. He leaned forward, so their noses were almost touhing, so close that he could feel Blaine's breath against his skin. It would only take one, slight tremble, to bring their lips together.

But then Kurt froze. He had never kissed a boy – he wasn't really sure how to do it. How exactly did he go about crashing their lips together without also breaking noses? Did he leave his eyes open, so that he could aim better, or did he –

His thought process was abruptly broken off as he felt warm lips moving against his own. Oh, God. Blaine was kissing him. His eyes flew open (when had he closed them?

He couldn't see much – just curly hair, held back by a pound of gel, and thicked, arched eyebrows. He sighed a little, into the kiss, and closed them again. He heard a squee behind him, and apparently Blaine did, too, because he chuckled a little into the kiss.

Wait. What about his arms? What was Kurt supposed to do with his arms? Hmm. . .what was Blaine doing with _his_ arms? As if in answer to Kurt's unspoken question, one of Blaine's hands came up to gently cup his cheek, even as he pulled back.

Kurt opened his eyes, and found himself peering straight into a pair of dancing hazel ones.

"Oh," he said, a little dumbly, "is it over already?"

"Yeah, I'm still on duty," Blaine said, glancing down, and rubbing at the back of his neck. Kurt nearly giggled as he noticed the slight blush on the other boy's face. "I should probably go, before they realize I'm missing."

"Okay. See you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, half-smile on his face. "Definitely. See you tomorrow."

Kurt closed the door, and slid down against it, feeling like all the bones in his body had turned into mush. Mercedes exploded out of her afghan cocoon, running toward him and wrapping him up in a monstrous hug.

"I'm so happy for you, boo!" she squealed. Kurt allowed himself one, very small, very non-tacky fistbump.

It was becoming a _very_ good year for Kurt Hummel.

**A/N: Yay! For those of you waiting, wait no longer. . .Klaine is now official!**

**COMING SOON: Finn and Sam decide to open a detective agency, Klaine tries to figure out exactly what they are, and Rachel is intent on winning. . .EVERYTHING**


	14. Battle Cries

13:57

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay. There will probably only be biweekly updates for the rest of the summer. Tragically, I am really busy. I know, right? Who gets **_**busier**_** in the summer? Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter, by the way. Also: this story now has more alerts than anything I've written, except for Beyond the End! (which, if you haven't read, go read. It's **_**way**_** better than this. )**

As it turned out, Kurt didn't get to see Blaine at breakfast after all, as he was accosted by a very hyper Rachel immediately upon entering the Great Hall. The tiny brunette promptly threaded her right arm through Kurt's left, and did the same with Mercedes.

"Excellent, I'm so pleased to see you two!" she chirped. "Now then, I recognize that I am currently in the lead for the Triwizard Tournament, but that simply means that I must work even harder to achieve my goal of utter stardom. Complacency is the enemy people and. . .Kurt? Kurt? Are you paying any attention to me? Kurt?"

"Shhh, girl!" Mercedes hissed. "Our boy here is looking for his beau!"

"His boo?" Rachel frowned. "I thought you were his beau. I thought. . ."

Mercedes, meanwhile, was perfectly right. Kurt _was_ scanning the crowd looking for Blaine. He almost missed seeing the other boy. He finally caught sight of those telltale hazel eyes, for some reason hidden under a large fedora. He was sitting at the Hufflepuff table, as ever, beside Finn and Sam, who were also wearing fedoras. What the. . .?

"Well, I'm very pleased that you're finding romance, but now is _not_ the time for romance!"

"She's just pissed that Finn is blowing her off," Mercedes whispered.

"I absolutely am not! I just refuse to indulge his silly delusion that this competition is rigged. It so clearly _isn't_ rigged, not when the two most talented performers are in first place. Wait. . .Kurt who are you _looking_ at? Do you have a crush on Sam again?"

Her voice was extremely strident by the end, causing several Gryffindor's to stick their ingers in their ears, and resulting in Hugo half-heartedly flipping a chicken nugget her way.

"Girl, shut it!" Mercedes insisted, this time whacking Rachel upside the head for good effect. "He's not looking at Sam. He's looking at Blaine. They kissed last night."

"They. . .what. . .but. . .he's the enemy, Kurt!"

He rolled his eyes. Of course that was what Rachel would inevitably jump to. He wondered if Finn had pulled the fedoras out from his "detective chest." Two years ago, Finn had decided that he was going to be an investigator, and was going to find out all of the secrets of Hogwarts. He'd found the Room of Requirement, but that was about it. Kurt still thought he'd only found that because he'd gotten so lost and had to pee.

"Rachel, Finn's right," was what he finally ended up saying. "The competition is rigged. I heard some of the professor's talking about it. And you have to admit, it does seem a little strange. Jesse only having to deal with a Blast-Ended Skrewt? Blaine, who is afraid of heights, being stuck in that nest?"

Rachel frowned, a little line appearing between her eyebrows. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Guys. . .I know that this may sound ridiculous, but I think that the Triwizard Tournament might be rigged!"

"The question is, who's doing this?" Kurt asked, sitting down. "Mercedes, who are the suspects?"

"Coach Sylvester," she said. "Always suspicious, seems to hate all of the students. Plus, shes had her wand out at every tournament."

"But she's a professor!" Rachel protested. "Her job is to protect us!"

Mercedes, well-trained best friend that she was, ignored the other girl and continued on. "Blais Zabini. Intricately involved in the administration of the tournament, massive snoot, clearly favors Jesse."

"My money's on Zabini," Kurt said regretfully. "After all, he came in with the Durmstrang students. And Sue might be kind of crazy, but she hates losing, and she works here. If Jesse wins, wouldn't that kind of be like her losing?"

He thought that he made a valid point, but at the same time, he couldn't help but be suspicious of the Quidditch coach. He glanced up to where she was sitting at the head table. The minute he caught sight of her, she spun around, her eyes instantly finding his. Kurt couldn't help but shiver. Yeah. . .she was totally behind everything.

Abruptly, and evidently apropos of nothing, Rachel's face lit up. A moment later, there was a thunk as somebody sat down next to Kurt. He sighed. He might not be a detective, but between Rachel's look of pure glee and the smell of cheese fries, he had a pretty good idea who was sitting next to him.

"Hey, Finn," he said.

"Hey," Finn said, reaching out and trying to ruffle Kurt's hair. Needless to say, Kurt, with his lightning fast reflexes, didn't let that happen. He leaned forward, and pulled his fedora a little further down over his forehead. "Rachel, I just wanted to let you know, that Sam, Blaine and I are on an investigation. We're going to find out who's rigging the Tournament. You have nothing to worry about. We'll keep you safe."

Then, with what Finn clearly thought was a daring move, he stood up and gallivanted back to the Hufflepuff table. Rachel swooned a little.

"Isn't Finn just amazing?"

"I dunno," Mercedes said skeptically. "I thought that was a little sexist. Kind of condescending. Like, just because you're a girl, you can't take care of yourself? I don't approve."

"That's because you have no sense of romance," Rachel sniffed.

"Wait a second," Kurt said, lifting his finger, a genius idea coming to him. "Rachel, I don't think you should get involved with Finn."

"What? Whyever not?"

"Well. . ." Kurt glanced at Mercedes, and completely couldn't keep the smile off his face. "You're on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and Finn's on Hufflepuff. He's the competition."

Mercedes cracked up. Rachel just gasped, and covered her mouth.

"Oh no, you're totally right!" She jumped up, and ran away from their bathroom. "I have to consult my cards about this!"

xxx

"Hey, guys, great job in the Tournament!" Professor Schue said. "Quinn you were phenomenal. Jesse, great job. Rachel, that was one of the greatest love spells I've ever seen and Blaine. . .well, I hardly need to point out how impressive the transporting spell was. So, in honor of the great growth and skill exhibited by this group, I've decided to teach you something really fantastic today."

"How to pop and lock it?" Mike asked.

"A _callate_ song?" Santana suggested.

"Rainbows!" That was Brittany.

"Dude, what about, like, a song that makes there be explosions!" Finn guessed.

"No, no," Professor Schuester laughed, lifting his hands. "Jesse, I think you'll appreciate this. I'm actually going to teach you a battle song."

The minute the words came out of their teacher's mouth, Kurt felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Indeed, all of the boys perked up, instantly looking pretty excited. Professor Schuester just motioned to Jesse.

"I'm sure that you'd like to be up first, right, Jesse?"

The Durmstrang student instantly leapt to his feet, a smug smile across his face. He grabbed the sheet music from Professor Schuester, and instantly began chuckling to himself, nodding in satisfaction. Their teacher slapped his hands together, nearly giddy with excitement.

"All right," he said. "Who wants to take Jesse on?"

Kurt took a deep swallow. Battle songs meant fighting, and fighting meant people could get hurt. He glanced nervously at Mercedes. Normally he was all for friendly competition, but he had the definite impression that this was not going to be friendly at all. Besides, Jesse was good. Like, really, really good. He didn't think that anyone could really go up against him.

And then, to his horror, Finn raised his hand. While Finn was a big dude, and could probably hold his own in a fight, Kurt knew that there was absolutely no way that he could possibly take on _anyone_ when it came to musical lyricism. He had enthusiasm, all right, but not a whole lot of talent.

"I'll do it," Blaine said, standing up quickly, before Finn had a chance to get up, himself. Kurt gasped back a strangled "no" and instantly grabbed Mercedes hand, squeezing it tight enough to make all color disappear. Which, with Mercedes, was _really_ saying something.

"Great! Professor Schuester said, rubbing his hands together. "I can see that we're going to have a real competition here!"

Blaine wordlessly took the sheet music. Did he look paler than usual? Kurt thought he looked paler than usual.

"Kurt. . .could you let go? Just a little? You're kind of hurting my hand."

The two boys lined up across the room. Jesse folded up his music, and stuffed it into his back pocket, where it peeped out a little cockily. Blaine just held onto his, hand trembling the tiniest bit. Jesse took a deep breath and began to sing.

"_Welcome to the jungle_

_ We got fun 'n games_

_ We got everything you want_

_ Honey, we know the names_

_ We are the people that can find_

_ Whatever you may need_

_ If you got the money, honey_

_ We got your disease_,"

Blaine just looked confused, as Jesse continued to sing. Kurt sat up a little, feeling a bit better. Maybe Jesse wouldn't be able to pull this one off, for once.

_"In the jungle_

_ Welcome to the jungle_

_ Watch it bring you to your kn-kn-kn-knees!_"

Blaine gasped out, a short, pained gasp as his body jerked down suddenly, his knees hitting the ground with a resounding crack. Kurt jumped a little, and went back to nearly-breaking Mercedes hand. Professor Schuester, meanwhile, was just nodding his head along.

_"I wanna watch you bleed_,"

Blaine yelled, short and strangled sounding as his shoulder suddenly jerked back. A second later, his white, perfectly ironed shirt was dotted with spot of red, seeping out from his right shoulder. Kurt dug his nails into Mercedes hand.

_"Welcome to the jungle_

_ We take it day by day_

_ If you want it, you're gonna bleed_,"

This time it was Blaine's left shoulder that burst into a bright flower of scarlet. His yell was louder this time, as he bit down on his lip. Sam and Finn were both on their feet, fists clenched.

_"But it's the price you pay_

_ And you're a very sexy boy, that's very hard to please_

_ You can taste the bright lights_

_ But you won't get them for free_"

An invisible force suddenly picked Blaine up, tossing him across the room like a rag doll. With a thud, he hit the wall, and fell, bonelessly, to the ground. Kurt bit down on his lip, and tasted blood. Oh, God, this was so much worse than the Tournament, because Professor Schuester was just sitting there, watching one student _kill_ another, and he wasn't doing anything.

_"In the jungle_

_ Welcome to the jungle_

_ Feel my, my, my serpentine_

_ I, I wanna hear you scream!"_

Sure enough, Blaine did scream. He doubled over his stomach, clutching it as though some heavy object had rammed into him.

"Stop it!" Quinn, surprisingly, was the one to yell, standing up angrily. "Professor Schuester, make him stop!"

Their teacher just waved them off, a satisfied looking smile on his face. As Kurt watched, Blaine, trembling, pushed himself to his feet. A bruise already surrounded his right eye, and there was a small, oozing cut just over his right cheekbone. He took a deep breath, and began to sing.

_"Risin' up, back on the street_

_ Did my time, took my chances_

_ Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet_

_ Just a man and his will to survive_,"

As Kurt watched, a little in awe, Blaine stood up, straightening out. He shook his hands, and angrily brushed the blood off his face. Jesse, meanwhile, cocked his head, and crossed his arms.

"_So many times, it happens too fast_

_ You change your passion for glory_

_ Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past_

_ You must fight just to keep them alive_"

Something steely and hard appeared in Blaine's hazel eyes, and Kurt felt a shiver go through him. As terrified as he was, and as sick as this was all making him, he couldn't help feeling a little. . .well, a little aroused, if he were being perfectly honest. Because Blaine looked really, really _hot_, with that pissed off look in his eyes, his shoulders set, a light sheen of sweat across his forehead.

Jesse, meanwhile, had lost a bit of his smirk, and looked a little worred as Blaine stalked toward him.

_"It's the eye of the tiger it's the ream of the fight_

_ Risin' up to the challenge of our rival"_

Jesse's body suddenly jerked forward, as though against his will, until his was standing directly across from Blaine, so close that their noses almost touched. Both of their chests were heaving. Oh, God, Kurt realized. He was the kind of sick guy who got turned on by this kind of thing.

"_And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night_

_ And he's watching us all in the eye of the tiger_,"

This time it was Jesse who went flying across the room, harder and higher than Blaine had been. When he hit the wall and fell to the ground, he left a crack in the wall above him.

"Professor Schuester. . .don't you think this has gone far enough?" Rachel asked, trembling a little. Blaine stalked over to Jesse and stood over the other boy, his fists clenched so tightly that tendons stood out on his forearms. Kurt began salivating.

Jesse chuckled and stood up slowly, wiping a trickle of blood off his lips.

"_Welcome to the jungle_

_ It gets worse here everyday_,"

Blaine's head jerked to the side, as though he'd been punched. When he turned back, he looked more furious than Kurt had ever seen him.

"_Face to face, out in the heat_

_ Hangin' touch, stayin' hungry"_

Jesse cried out and clutched at his shoulder, rocking back on his heels.

"_Ya learn to live like an animal_

_ IN the jungle where we play_

_ If you got a hunger for what you see_

_ You'll take it eventually"_

Blaine dropped to the ground, bracing himself with one hand. He flung his head black, curls flying free from their usual gel.

"_They stack the odds til we take to the street_

_ For we kill with the skill to survive_."

This was the worst yet, as Jesse went skidding across the floor. When he finally came to a rest, he didn't move for a moment. The entire room was silent for several seconds, only the sound of Blaine's harsh breathing filling the room. Then, Jesse slowly sat up. He winced, and grabbed his ribs tightly.

"You fucking broke a bone, fairy!" he seethed.

"You stuck me in the fucking nest, you. . .bad guy!" Blaine replied. Beside Kurt, Mercedes winced, probably at the weakness of the insult.

Jesse threw his hand out, more for dramatic effect than anything, Kurt supposed.

"_And when you're high you never. . ."_

Blaine gasped as his body was suddenly lifted from the ground.

"_Ever want to come down, so down, so down, so down Yeeeeeaaaaahhh!"_

There was a resounding crack was Blaine plummeted to the ground, as though he'd been literally thrown out of the air. He didn't move.

Rachel screamed.

Sam and Finn rushed forward to their friend.

Jesse struggled, tried to make it to his feet, and failed, groaning and sobbing a little as he fell back to the ground. For the first time, Professor Schuester's face showed a hint of his confusion.

"_Risin' up, straight to the top_

_ Have the guts, got the glory_,"

Unbelievably, Blaine was still singing. He propped himself up on two elbows, and just glared across at Jesse, who began gasping out the final lyrics to his own song as well.

"_You know where you are, you're in the jungle, baby_

_ You're gonna die in the jungle_

_**Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop**_

_** Just a man and his will to survive"**_

__Kurt felt something wet and sticky fall down his face, felt his stomach clench. He couldn't look away as Jesse and Blaine both desperately panted out their words. There was a scary, rattling sound in Blaine's chest as he sang, and Jesse kept cutting off words to desperately take shaking, stuttering breaths. Finn and Sam glanced at each other and then stood up together, placing themselves between the two combatants.

Then, as ridiculous as it was, they both opened their mouths and began to sing.

"_We're not gonna take it_

_ No! We ain't gonna take it_

_ Oh we're not gonna take it anymore._

_ We've got the right to choose and_

_ There ain't no way we'll lose it_

_ This is our life, this is our song_

_ We'll fight the powers tat be just_

_ Don't pick our destiny 'cause_

_ You don't know us, you don't belong_

_ Oh, we're not gonna take it_

_ No! We ain't gonna take it_

_ Oh we're not gonna take it anymore!"_

As their voices died out, everyone was staring at the two boys with wide eyes. Kurt had to be honest: he didn't think that their spells had succeeded at all. But they had silenced both Blaine and Finn, both of whom seemed to be concentrating too hard on breathing to actually keep fighting.

"Well," Professor Schuester said, "that was. . .very impressive, guys."

Rachel and Tina ran crying from the room. Finn shot an angry look at Professor Schuester, before leaning down to help Blaine to his feet.

"Come on, dude," he said. "We've got to get you to Madame Pomfrey."

He and Sam each stuck a shoulder under the other boy's shoulder, and began escorting him out the door. Kurt just wanted to run to the other boy, to put his hands all over and make sure that Blaine was okay, but he was still too frozen too move. Too scared still, and honestly too disgusted by his own reaction to the fight.

As the three boys reached the door, however, Blaine turned around, and stared at Kurt, his hazel eyes unerringly finding Blaine's own.

"Kurt," he rasped, and Kurt almost died at the desperate tone in the other boys voice. "Get Dave, please. Just. . .need Dave. . ."

Never mind. At those words, Kurt _did_ die.

**A/N: Not a lot of plot development, but hey, epic fight scene makes up for it, right? Also, had to get Blaine out of the way so that Kurt can join the Sam/Finn Detective Agency! Next chapter. . .much hilarity.**

**COMING SOON: The Sannurt Detective Agency takes flight! Rachel and Blaine bond! Dave finally has some resolution! **


	15. MiniInterlude

13:57

**A/N: Super, super short chapter, I'm sorry! I actually wasn't planning on writing any more of this for a while, since I've been so busy, but then I just logged on and read all of these wonderful reviews, and realized that I couldn't leave it on that horrible note! So I give you this: clunky and a bit clumsy, and I may completely rewrite it in the next chapter, but we'll see. **

It actually turned out to be pretty easy to find Karofsky. He literally walked out of the choir room door and kablam! Massive, Neanderthal in his face. Karofsky watched with a worried expression on his face as Finn, Sam, and Blaine hobbled away

"Hey, homo," he said, "is everything okay?"

Kurt thought about coming back with a snide remark, but in his current mood, wasn't sure that he could summon all of the sass necessary to put the other boy in his place. Instead he settled for simply relaying the message he'd been given.

"Blaine and Jesse got into a fight. Blaine's going to the infirmary. He asked for you."

And then Karofsky does the unthinkable. Whereas Kurt, upon hearing the news that a beautiful boy wanted him would have gone running to Madame Pomfrey's, Karofsky just frowned even deeper, the lines on his forehead looking like vast chasms.

_Oh my Dumbledore_, Kurt sighed, did nobody appreciate the importance of a good moisturizing routine?

"Where's Jesse?" Karofsky asked. "Is he okay."

"Jesse st. Douchebag will be fine, he's just in there."

Kurt stuck his thumb out to point the direction, and then instantly tensed his shoulders, waiting for Karofsky to pummel him, or hipcheck him, or maybe just fart in his general direction. Instead of doing any of those things, the Durmstrang student just nodded his head and darted toward the door.

"Tell Blaine I'll be in later," he said.

Kurt stared at the door, dumbfounded. That was. . .unexpected.

He walked over to the door, beyond curious now. Most of the students were leaving, and he had to wait until they'd all filed out, though Rachel and Mercedes paused to wait for him. He ducked his head in. Karofsky was over at the far side of the room, with Mr. Schuester, bent over Jesse. The three of them were talking together, quick rushed whispers. As Kurt watched, Karofsky reached forward and, with a tender movement that could only meant one thing, brushed a tendril of hair away from Jesse's face.

"Oh my God," Rachel whispered.

"Do you know what this means?" Mercedes asked breathlessly.

"Not really. . ." Kurt admitted.

"Mr. Schuester favors Durmstrang in the competition!" Rachel gasped. "That is completely inappropriate, seeing as he _is_ a Hogwarts teacher, after all."

"No," Mercedes snapped, rolling her eyes. "It _means_ that the reason Karofsky's been being such a bully to Kurt is because he was jealous."

"Of my fabulous hair and style?" Kurt sniffed. "Well, obviously. Who isn't?" He reached up his hand for a high five, but Mercedes just snorted indelicately, grabbed him by the wrist, and towed him into the hallway.

"No, boo. Jealous of your relationship with Jesse."

"But I don't _have_ a relationship with Jesse!"

"You know that," Mercedes said, "And I know that –"

"Me, too!" Rachel interrupted.

"But he doesn't. He knows that you two went to the Yule Ball together. He knows that Jesse flirts with you. And he knows that you're the hottest gay guy on campus."

Kurt considered for a moment. The puzzle pieces did fit, after all. Except. . .except for one piece that just wasn't falling into piece.

"What about Blaine?"

"What about him?" Mercedes asked. She cocked one eyebrow, and jutted out her hip, putting on a full diva expression.

"Well, aren't they together? I mean, they went to Yule Ball, and they're always talking in dark corners. And then Blaine just"

Mercedes looked like she was about to explode. Rachel sighed, and put a gentle hand on the other girl's forearm.

"Allow me. Kurt, who did Blaine kiss last night?"

"Well, me, but maybe –"

"Kurt, in the second task, who was Blaine's most treasured person?"

"Me, but it was rigged, so. . .

"Who did Blaine serenade the very first day back in class? Who's coffee order does Blaine know?"

Huh. She did kind of have a point. Kurt glanced over his shoulder, to where Karofsky was helping Jesse to his feet. He understood what Rachel was saying, but he still didn't understand why Blaine had asked for Dave, after the fight. Unless. . .

"You know what, guys. . .I think Blaine might have wanted me to get Karofsky to help Jesse. They're friends. Maybe he already knew."

Mercedes and Rachel exchanged a look. If Kurt's head hadn't been busy whirring around, he might have evalutated that look, and he probably would have been pissed. AS it was. . .

"If you'll excuse me, I think that I have to visit my future boyfriend in the infirmary."

He began to think that it might be okay. He'd walk into the infirmary, and Blaine's face would light up. He would grab a wet cloth, and brush it lovingly across Blaine's forehead, before leaning down to catch the other boys' lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. And then Blaine would miraculously heal, and they would have crazy gay sex on the hospital bed.

Kurt was still a teenage boy, after all.

But, because nothing in Kurt Hummel's life ever went according to plan, instead of getting kinky with the dreamiest boy in school, he was accosted by his lumbering halfl-brother and big-mouthed lackey mere feet from the door. And, oh Dumbledore save him, they were wearing their fedoras again.

"Kurt come with us!" Finn said urgently, grabbing Kurt's hand and dragging him down the hallway. Since Finn outweighed Kurt by about seventy pounds, and since he was moving at the rate of a college tailback, the shorter boy really didn't have much of an option.

"Finn . . .let go of me, you big oaf!"

"Shhh!" Sam said urgently. "We're on a spy mission! You have to be quiet!"

"A spy mission? Oh, for the love of magic, let _go_ of me!"

Finn did not let go. Instead, Finn put a fedora. On Kurt's head. Disturbing his hair. So Kurt cast a Bat Bogey hex on him.

"Dude, that was awesome!" Sam said in awe, even as he unjinxed his best friend. "You didn't take out a wand, or anything!"

"What do you guys want? You're just going to abandon Blaine?"

"Nah, he's sleeping," Finn said. "But we saw Coach Sylvester and Blade Houdini walking this way, and we thought"

"Oh my Gaga," Kurt breathed out. This was perfect. Their two biggest suspects for rigging the competition were actually meeting together? Now he would finally be able to figure out who was rigging the competition. "Why didn't you say that to begin with?"

Kurt Hummel is going to rock the fedora.

**A/N: Once again, sorry. Not the best written, but at least you have some idea where it's going. The Finnamurt investigation is going to be hilarious, I can tell already!**

**Also, consider checking out my newest story, Concrete Jungle. It's a not-really-AU, showing Rachel, Klaine, and Brittana in New York City following graduation. **

**Reviews are love!**


	16. The Forbidden Forest

13:57

**A/N: Sorry that this has been just about the longest break in the history of the world. I head back home in two weeks, so updates should be more normal by then. Though. . .there's only about three chapters left. Thanks for all those who kept leaving reviews. . .you kicked my butt and reminded me not to leave this dangling!**

The hallway was as dark and musty as Kurt remembered, and coated in spiderwebs. He was going to have to deep clean his vest for certain, and he sincerely wished that Sam and Finn had given him a chance to change into something more appropriate. . .like a pair of Hugo's robes or something. As it was, he just tried to step carefully and avoid absolutely destroying his new pair of boots.

Finn and Sam, meanwhile, had clearly never understood the concept of stealth. Finn was lumbering along, running into walls every third step and whacking his head on the low roof. Sam chortled with every gasped utterance from his best friend's mouth. While there was a certain humor in their antics, mostly Kurt just wanted to return to the castle. He wanted to run to the infirmary, and kiss Blaine's lips, and make sure that the other boy was all right.

Just as he was deciding that this was all just a bit too much, and he couldn't stand another minute of the dirtiness, and the utter silliness of three half-grown boys wearing fedoras and skulking around beneath the castle, he saw the light from the opening at the end of the tunnel. Finn rushed toward it anxiously, tripping over his feet in the process, and eliciting more giggles from Sam. Kurt just rolled his eyes. Those two were the absolutely worst spies ever.

He was getting ready to chide them when he heard it. Voices, from above, pitched low to keep secrets. He moved to hush his half-brother and friend, but they had heard it as well. All three boys crowded close together as they neared the end of the tunnel, their shoulders brushing as they walked. Kurt tried not to breathe. His heart was beating so loudly that he was certain that whoever was above them could hear it, certain that Sam and Finn had to be flinching from the pounding next to them.

"A little morbid, isn't it fancy?"

That was Coach Sylvester's voice. Kurt sucked in a hasty breath as he heard it. Finn gestured at him hurriedly, pointing toward the ground. He and Sam lowered themselves carefully to the ground, lying on their stomachs. Kurt hesitated a moment longer. These weren't his best robes, but they were still school robes, and he really didn't want to have to deal with the dirtiness later and. . .Finn was still gesturing, and he heard a voice clearing, freakishly close to his ear. He dropped like a rock, squirming between Sam and Finn's bodies, feeling somehow safer there.

Blais voice echoed slightly. It sounded like it was coming from the twigs, right next to his ear, and Kurt realized that they had to be hiding just feet from where the two adults were talking.

"It makes sense," Blais said, his voice as slithery and silky as ever. "No wizard would dare to disturb the great Dumbledore's tomb."

"Except for us," Coach Sylvester smirked.

Kurt stared at Finn, who was wearing a dumbfounded expression. Were they talking about grave robbery? What could possibly be gained from opening the famed wizard's tomb?

"Except for us," Blais agreed. "You'll make sure that the Portkey takes him here?"

"I control everything at Hogwarts," Sue sneered. "Are you sure that your boy has the talent to get it out?"

"Jesse st. James is the most talented Musical Lyricist alive," Blais said. "If he can't get the wand out, then no one can."

"And he'll hand it over?" Sue asked. "And you'll give me what I want?"

"Hogwarts will be yours," Blais assured her. "the fashion industry will be mine. And uttery stardom will be Jesse's. We'll all come out ahead."

"If this is a fable, I'll rip out your nuts, hang them on a Christmas tree, and give it to the houseelves to eat," Sue said. "That wand had better be there."

There was a pause, then, and the sound of scuffling again. Kurt tried to breathe in thorugh his nose, but the dust was unsettling. He could feel a sneeze coming on, and desperately shoved a fist in his mouth to try and keep from making a noise.

"What about the other students?" Sue asked. Blais sniffed disdainfully.

"Talented," he admitted. "But there's no guarantee that they'll work for us. Send their Portkeys to the castle. Let them win their silly little Tournament. You and I know what the real prize is."

Kurt screwed his face up, his eyes closed as tightly as possible to keep from sneezing. He wasn't entirely certain what the teacher and fashion icon were talking about, but it sounded somewhat dangerous. And it _was_ happening in the Forbidden Forest, which instantly called to mind illicit, illegal activities. Sam pinched him.

There was another shuffling above. Kurt refused to take a breath. The dirt was tickling his nose and he knew, just knew, that another breath would cause him to sneeze. So he didn't breathe. He could feel his face growing red. He could feel darkness encroaching, even behind his closed eyelids. Still, he thought passing out might be preferable to sneezing and being heard.

"Dude," Finn whistled. "Kurt's face is crazy red. Can you get sunburned under ground?"

"What do you mean it's. . ." Their voices were thick and distorted, as though he were hearing them from underwater. Kurt wondered why they were talking, when Blais and Coach Sylvester were just above them.

"Crap! Finn, he's not breathing!"

This proclamation was followed by a riot of pain, as Kurt was pinched, prodded, and slapped all over his body. He refused to breathe. If he breathed, he'd sneeze, and if he'd sneeze. . .but then a thick, meaty hand touched his hair and oh _Hell no_, nobody touched his hair!

Kurt's eyes flew open and he took a deep breath. Even as he did so, a sneeze exploded from his nose, ricocheting across the room.

Kurt turned around, trying to decide whether it was Sam or Finn who had touched his hair. They both had their hands raised, guilty expressions on their faces. He slapped them both, before gingerly touching his head and trying to smooth back his hair.

"Don't. Touch. The do." He said ominously.

Xxx

By the time that the boys made it back to the castle and Kurt had a chance to clean up (and _shower_, than Dumbledore, because not only was the dirt highly unattractive, but it also itched), the infirmary was closed. Kurt had tried every trick in the book to get in: he'd told Madame Pomfrey that Blaine was his boyfriend, his brother, and his uncle. . .he'd tried to fake sick himself, claimed that he was feeling faint. Unfortunately the nuse was clearly used to people trying to sneak their way in, and she wasn't paying any attention to him. Dejected, he made his way back to the Gryffindor Common room.

There was nobody in the common room. Nobody. Mercedes should have been waiting up for him, anxiously awaiting any news of progress between himself and Blaine. Kurt frowned.

"Mercedes?" he called. "Mercedes, are you here?"

No girl popped out to see him, although a moment later the door to the boys' dormitory cracked open. Jame popped his head out, his curly hair more unruly than usual.

"Hey, Kurt," he yelled. "Don't. . .uh. . .don't come up right now. Hugo was lighting his farts on fire again."

Kurt just rolled his eyes and walked straight out the door again.

He hated going down to the Slytherin common room. It was dark and danky and in the dungeon. But he absolutely _had_ to talk to someone. Finn and Sam had been hopeless, of course, just speculating about what Coach Sylvester could have couldn't seem to convince them that it didn't matter what she wanted. . .what mattered was what wand they were talking about.

So he knocked on the door, and waited impatiently for the door to open.

It took a few moments, but then a short, blond head poked out.

"Hey, Scorpius," Kurt said, clearing his throat a little awkwardly. He always hated talking to the young Slytherin. Even though Mr. Potter insisted that his father was one of the good guys, everyone knew that the Malfoys had been working with the Dark Lords. Still, he seemed nice enough, and just shrugged, letting Kurt in.

"Hi, Kurt!" Rachel yelled, flouncing in. "Did you return from your expedition with Finn? Did you talk about me? What did he say?"

"Uh. . .no. . ." Kurt said slowly. "We didn't. . .why on earth would we have talked about you? No, listen, Rachel, this is important."  
>Rachel huffed and crossed her arms. "And you're implying that my relationship with your step-brother isn't important?"<p>

"You don't _have_ a relationship with Finn!" Kurt said, exasperated.

"I have as much of a relationship with Finn as you do with Blaine."

"At least I've kissed Blaine!"

"So have I."

Kurt felt like pulling his hair out. "Why are we even arguing about this?" he asked. "Look, this is about the Triwizard Tournament."

With that, of course, Rachel was all ears. She listened intensely as he explained what they'd heard in the Forbidden Forest. She frowned slightly when he mentioned the tomb, nodded her head at the appropriate moments, and seemed appropriately somber by the end.

"So what do you think?"

Rachel tapped her mouth thoughtfully. "Well. . ." she said slowly, "I think there's some good news and some bad news. The good news is that Blaine and I have a really good chance at winning, if Jesse is off doing something else."

Kurt was beginning to wonder if his eyes would get permanently stuck in a weird way if he kept rolling them.

"The bad news is. . .well. . .I think they were talking about the Elder Wand."

"Come again?"

"The Elder Wand is. . .wait, hold on, Rose can explain it better."

But of course, rather than just heading to Ravenclaw, they had to pick up Scorpius. Kurt shuddered a little as they walked through the hallways. It turned out to be good that the small Slytherin was with them, however, as he was the only one able to answer the riddle to enter the Ravenclaw room.

"Hey, Kurt, Rachel," a lazy Artie said from where he was sprawled next to the fire. "Wassup?"

"We're hear to talk to Rose about the Elder wand," Rachel said. "Do you know where she is?"

"Right here." Kurt jumped a little as the voice came from behind him. He turned around, seeing the bushy-haired girl standing beside her boyfriend. "How may I help you?"

"Tell us about the Elder wand," Rachel said imperiously.

Rose frowned, her freckled face looking incredibly concerned. "I'm not. . .my mother says I'm not really to talk about it."

Kurt tried shooting her a "bitch, please" look. Rachel just sighed.

"Look," she said. "We know where it is. Coach Sylvester is going to take it out. We just want to know a little more about it."

Rose bit her lip, and frowned at Scorpius. "Well. . .she said slowly, "it's an old wives' tale, really. It's supposedly the most powerful wand in all the world. In order to be the master of the elder wand, you have to defeat it's prior owner, so it has a dreadfully bloody history."

"My father said that Lord Voldemort had the elder wand," Scorpius drawled, his voice slightly haughty. "He had the wand, but because it was my father who disarmed its prior owner, he was never its master."

"So the Elder wand is the most powerful wand in the world," Rachel mused slowly. "And that would make its owner the most powerful wizard alive, correct?"

"Correct," Rose said. "Uncle Harry said that he hid it away, to make sure that no power-hungry wizard ever stole it again. He never told anyone where he put it. . ."

"Her father was pissed," Scorpius said. Rose scowled a little.

"Wait. . ." Something wasn't adding up here, at least not to Kurt. "It's not like the Sword of Gryffindor. . .anybody can use this wand, right?"

"Right," Rose said. "Though it will only be powerful if you"

"Defeat the prior wizard, right, right. . ."

Kurt frowned and glanced at Rachel. If it didn't take anything special to wield the wand, then why did Blais and Coach Sylvester need Jesse st. James? What did Musical Lyricism have to do with anything? At least they now understood why Blais had been rigging the Tournament. Unfortunately, it was beginning to seem like a way bigger deal than they'd initially thought. This wasn't just about winning a tournament. . .this was about gaining control of a wand that could destroy the world.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of Klaine, but the next three chapters are pretty Klaine heavy, so, get excited!**

**COMING SOON: Kurt either sneaks into the infirmary, or gets caught and gets detention: haven't decided which. The Champions banquet approaches, Professor Schuester teaches them the dumbest spell ever, Mercedes gets a boyfriend, Blaine has a plan, and Finn finally grows a pair.**


	17. A Not Great Plan

13:57

**A/N: What what. . .quick update! If you're one of those recent reviewers, you can thank yourself. Coming back and seeing that I have over 100 alerts for this story (!) made me feel kind of like. . .huh. . .you guys seem to like it. . .maybe I should finish it up. So. . .enjoy!**

Mercedes was in the common room when Kurt returned later that night. She was curled up in their afghan, in front of the fire. A slight, unlady-like snore issued from her nose. Kurt tried to close the door softly, so that she wouldn't waken, but his best friend had always been a light sleeper, and the moment that the latch clicked she sat up.

"Kurt!" she gasped, breaking into a smile. "James said that you were looking for me earlier."

"Yeah," Kurt said, inching toward the boys' dormitory. "I'll tell you about it later, 'Cedes."

"But. . ."

"I'm gonna sneak in to see Blaine."

He didn't really have a plan, which was far from the Kurt Hummel way. He did, however, have a pair of incredibly bright Ravenclaws who assured him that as long as he wore a shirt he could get dirty, they could get him into the infirmary, despite Madame Pomfrey's vigilance. He'd asked if the shirt should be black: they'd responded that it didn't matter, as long as he wouldn't freak out if it got dirty.

That made him a little nervous, but Artie and Tina had never let him down before, so he figured that he would just have to trust them. It only took a moment to steal one of James shirts (after all, _he_ didn't have anything that was less than fabulous). It was less than five minutes before he was back downstairs.

Mercedes was standing by this point, afghan wrapped around her shoulders. Kurt caught a quick glimpse of a strange expression on her face: something like hurt, but before he could even open his mouth to ask, she'd shut it with a quick click and was smiling at him, close-lipped.

"See you tomorrow," Kurt said, as he slipped out the portrait. He heard a whispered "Good luck" from behind him.

Artie and Tina were waiting for him in the hallway. Artie was grinning outrageously, his thin lips pulls back tightly, while Tina looked a bit nervous. She kept glancing up at Kurt from beneath her lashes, her hands fluttering uselessly about her waist. Kurt had a definite bad feeling about this.

"So, how much do you want to see Blaine?" Artie asked amiably as they walked through the hallways. Kurt considered. He was trying to decide whether it would be better to say "more than life itself" or "pretty important" when Professor Neville walked into their hallway.

Kurt sucked in a quick breath. It was his fifth year at Hogwarts and in all that time, he'd never once gotten in trouble. Not a single detention, or requirement to clean the cafeteria. . .he'd never even lost points for his House, that he could remember. Yet here he was, out of the room after hours.

"Hello, Professor," Artie said amiably. "Tina was just finishing up her patrol, and Kurt and I were helping out."

Professor Neville was a pleasant enough teacher, though Kurt barely knew him, not being a huge fan of all the dirt that came along with Herbology. Still, even his round face looked a little distrustful, as he glaned at Artie and Kurt.

"And why, pray tell, did Ms. Cohen-Chang need help?"

"Well, Blaine's in the infirmary, and Rachel and Rose were working on something for the Tournament," Artie said easily. "Which means poor Tina is the only one on patrol tonight."

Professor Neville seemed to consider that for a moment, before finally nodding his head. "All right," he said. "But be quick about it. Even Prefects need a good night's sleep."

"Of course, Professor Longbottom," Artie said, giving a smart little salute. "Scout's Honor."

Kurt let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding as the teacher continued on his way. Tina shuddered a little. Artie, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed, still grinning a bit as they continued to the infirmary.

The sick, twisting feeling in Kurt's stomach wasn't going away: if anything, it was getting worse, the closer they got to the infirmary without a plan. He was pretty sure that Artie wasn't planning on them just knocking and heading in, but he wasn't really seeing any other options.

"Artie. . .you have a plan, right?"

By this point they'd reached the front of the infirmary. Kurt glanced uneasily at the large oak doors. It wasn't that he was afraid of Madame Pomfrey. . .never let it be said that Kurt Hummel was _afraid_ of anyone. He was just. . .cautious. Because she was pretty terrifying for a nurse, honestly.

Artie glanced at him again, the smile slowly running away from his face. Tina, who had seemed nervous all night long, refused to even look at Kurt anymore. Artie cleared his throat.

"Seriously, Kurt, how far would you go to see Blaine?"

"I don't know what you mean. . ."

"Would you miss class for him?"

"Of course!"

"Would you give up your moisturizing routine for him?"

"Yes."

"Would you. . .die for him?"

Kurt and Tina both whipped their heads sideways to stare at the young Ravenclaw. He promptly broke into giggles. "Sorry," he gasped. "It's just. . .I'm not going to _kill _you. . .God, the look on your faces. . ."

Tina sighed. "Artie, just do it. It's going to hurt him a whole lot less if he doesn't know it's coming."

Wait. . .Kurt glanced at his friend. Hurt? What's coming?

He turned around just in time to see Artie's fist headed en route to his face before his world exploded into pain.

Xxx

"Kurt? Kurt, are you okay?"

No, he wanted to say. He absolutely was _not_ okay. His nose hurt a _ridiculous_ amount, his skin felt dry, and his hair felt oily. He could tell that he was lying beneath cheap sheets instead of the fine Egyptian cotton that he had brought from home and oh, did he mention, his _nose hurt_.

Instead of saying any of those things, Kurt opened his eyes.

Everything was blurry at first, that strange, fuzzed vision that he got whenever he tried on Artie's glasses. Everything was varying shades of white, fading into one another. He frowned, and tried to focus on the spots of green in the midst of all the white.

Slowly his eyes focused, and he found himself staring straight up into a pair of wide, hazel eyes, rimmed by thick black fringe. Little specks of brown and gold saturated the green. Suddenly Kurt's nose hurt a little less.

Blaine said back with a nervous chuckle, and patted Kurt's hand. "Glad to see you're back with the living," he said. Kurt shook his head, and slowly sat up.

He was, sure enough, in the infirmary, just as Artie had promised, although he was going to have a long talk with his friend about what constituted an appropriate plan (number one topic: giving a friend a concussion and possible broken nose was _not_ an appropriate plan). Blaine was sitting beside him, perched on his own hospital bed. Kurt looked at him critically, but the other boy seemed to be fully recovered from the fight with Jesse. Who . . .wait a minute, where was. . . but there was a mound of perfectly waving hair, lying on the bed to the other side of Blaine. So they were all here.

Blaine was still staring at him, and Kurt couldn't help but blush at the intensity of the other boy's gaze. But that's all that the other boy was doing. Just sitting there and staring. Which was kind of weird.

"Do I have something on my face?" Kurt asked, lifting a hand. Blaine laughed, reached out, and grabbed his hand.

"No," he chuckled. "Just. . .your nose is kind of. . ."

Kurt gasped, and despite Blaine's best efforts, his hands flew up to his nose. He probed delicately, wincing at the pain elicited by even a brief, gentle touch. It was obviously swollen, tender and, he had no doubt, a strange new color.

"Oh Dumbledore," Kurt gasped, shutting his eyes tightly and lying back on the bed. "I must look absolutely monstrous. Don't look at me Blaine, I. . ."

But the other boy just laughed again, the soft sound almost disappearing in the stillness of the infirmary. "You look adorable," Blaine insisted, which was enough to make Kurt crack open an eye again. "So don't worry about that. But are _you_ okay? Who did this to you? Was it Karofsky again?"

"No," Kurt said quickly, hearing the barely repressed anger in his friend's voice. "It was. . .um. . .Artie. . ."

Blaine frowned. "But I thought you guys were friends."

"We are," Kurt said quickly. "It's just. . .never mind. It's embarrassing."

Blaine's lips were tugging slowly, as though he were fighting a smile. He walked over and climbed into Kurt's bed, sitting directly beside him. Butterflies erupted in Kurt's stomach as their thighs brushed, their shoulders touched. He glanced over at Blaine from beneath his eyelashes, trying to be unobtrusive and obviously failing. Blaine was still just staring at hi.

"Come on," Blaine cajoled. "Tell me. I won't laugh. I promise."

Kurt considered. It really was rather humiliating, and kind of desperate, letting someone punch him in the face just so that he could visit his not-boyfriend in the infirmary. And he really, _really_ didn't want Blaine to think that he was one of those desperate, needy people – think he was Rachel Berry, in other words. But Blaine was still just _staring_ at him, and he couldn't see a way to deflect the conversation.

"Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me in to visit you," Kurt confessed, his voice low in the hope that Blaine wouldn't really hear him. "So I asked Artie to sneak me in and. . .um. . ." he was cut off when Blaine's shoulders started to shake. Suspciciously, he glared at the other boy, whose lips were pressed tightly together, eyes closed, but who's entire body was rocking in a very suspicious way.

"You promised not to laugh!"

"I'm sorry," Blaine gasped, full-out laughter escaping the moment he opened his mouth. "It's just too. . .I mean. . .you got punched in the face just to see me?"

"Yes," Kurt said grumpily, crossing his arms. "Though I can't imagine why, if all you're going to do is laugh at me."

That instantly quieted Blaine down. A minute later his hand reached out and clutched Kurt's again, this time intertwining their fingers. "I'm sorry," Blaine said, his voice irritatingly sincere. "I shouldn't have laughed. That's actually. . .that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Darn it. Now Kurt's blushing _again_, and it's all because Blaine sounds so genuine, and they're holding hands, and Blaine is just a warm, comforting presence beside him and. . .maybe he should skip out on the moisturizing routine once and a while. If his skin weren't so perfect, it wouldn't turn such a perfect shade of tomato.

"So. . ." Blaine said, after a long moment had passed. "Finn and Sam were going to investigate. And then when I didn't see you, I guess I figured. . .did you. . ."

"Yes," Kurt said hurriedly. "They caught up with me on my way here. And I wanted to come in, but they were wearing _fedoras_, and they offered me one, so. . ."

And then he told Blaine everything. He told him about the walk through the passage, about overhearing Blais and Sue. He told him about the Elder wand, what Rose had told him, and what Rachel had figured out. Blaine just sat there throughout the entire thing, chewing at his lip.

"So Jesse wants the Elder wand," he said, finally. "It's not the end of the world."

Kurt blinked at that. No, it really wasn't. It wasn't like Jesse was a power-hungry Dark Lord, nor was Blais, for that matter. They probably only wanted the power of the wand to increase the allure of fashion, or bad teen pop music. When put that way, it didn't sound nearly as menacing as it had, hidden in a dark tunnel beneath the Forbidden Forest.

"Then again," Blaine continued, still apparently just talking to himself. "That wand has a violent history. If it's unearthed, then it's out there for somebody worse to get ahold of. Harry Potter hid it for a reason."

Kurt just nodded again. Then a thought came to him. "Blaine. . .they want Jesse st. James because he can do Musical Lyricism. But you are just as good as him. . .maybe better. What if you grabbed that Portkey? What if you got the Elder wand?"

The other boy froze. When Kurt turned to look at him, his face was deathly white, and he just kept shaking his head. "I don't. . .I don't think that's such a good idea," he said finally. "Kurt, I'm not a Gryffindor, I'm a _Hufflepuff_. Daring deeds aren't. . .I'm afraid of flying on a broom, I couldn't possibly. . ."

Kurt shook his head. "Blaine, you are one of the bravest people I know! You faced down Karofsky and Jesse. You've succeeded at all of the tasks, you. . ."  
>Blaine was still shaking his head. "I would never have finished that Second Task if it weren't for you. I just. . .I can't, Kurt. Maybe Rachel can, she's a Slytherin, or maybe. . ."<p>

Kurt just squeezed the other boys' hand. He felt bad for Blaine, he did, but a little of the hero worshipping was disappearing. In the past five years that he'd spent crushing on his brother's best friend, he'd never imagined Blaine scared or backing down from a task. He'd always seemed so confident, so controlled, but here he was practically shaking at just the thought of grabbing a powerful piece of magic.

Kurt understood, he did. He could still remember his own Sorting, putting the hat on his head. The words it had spoken. . .

_Ambitious and sly enough for Slytherin, witty and intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, and with a fierce loyalty that would do you well in Hufflepuff. Still, there will come a day when none of those things will matter half as much, so for your own sake I'd best put you in. . ._

_ GRYFFINDOR_.

It didn't seem like such a big deal, to take the wand. But there was no way that he was going to force that on Blaine, who was still shaking just a little.

"It's okay," he said. "I'll talk to Rachel about it, or maybe Professor Schuester."

Blaine was shaking his head. "We'll talk to Mr. Potter about it," he said definitively. "He's coming for the feast before the Third Task. We'll talk to him about it. He'll know what to do."

Kurt just nodded absently. He'd forgotten about the feast, which was in less than a week's time. He'd have to work on that as soon as he got back to the dorm. He'd have to find appropriate dress robes, and decide how to style his hair, and oh God, _Finn_, how was he ever going to get that oaf of his brother into anything remotely resembling fashion, and –

Omph. His thought process was abruptly derailed as a pair of warm, chapped lips pressed against his own. Kurt's eyes flew open only to see dark butterfly eyelashes and a smattering of freckles across olive skin. Oh, he thought, closing his eyes again. Oh, that was nice. . .

As quickly as it began, it was over, Blaine just squeezing his hand again before hopping back over to the other bed. Kurt took a moment to even out his breathing, before turning to glance at the other boy. Blaine was lying back on his bed, eyes closed, his lips curved in just the slightest of smiles.

Xxx

Everyone was back in Musical Lyricism the next day, although Blaine wasn't sitting in his usual chair beside Finn and Sam, but rather next to Kurt. Tina didn't seem to mind being displaced. . .she was able to sit beside Mike now, and they kept exchanging brief, chaste kisses. Mercedes, meanwhile, kept glancing over at Kurt with one eyebrow raised. He felt a little badly that he still hadn't been able to talk to her, but he was sure they'd have time for a nice lady-chat before dinner. . .

It was hard to be overly concerned about that, however, when Blaine kept holding his hand, and shooting sideways glances at him.

"All right, guys!" Professor Schuester said exuberantly as he walked in, late as ever. "We're going to have two guests with us today. . ."

Sure enough, right behind him walked Madame Pomfrey and Blais Zabini.

"After the events of last class it was determined that a little more. . .er. . .supervision might be necessary."

"Please," Jesse st. James said, running a hand through his hair. "I hardly even broke a sweat."

"Really?" Sam said, at the same time that Finn said "that's not what it looked like when you were crying for your mommy!"

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Schuester said. "We're just going to do a simple spell today, let everyone calm down from all the tension. Today we're going to do a Summoning."

"_Accio_ sheet music!" Finn yelled triumphantly. Even Rachel giggled a little at that, as the pages flew into each students head. Good-naturedly, Professor Schuester inclined his head.

"Admittedly, this spell isn't so useful for that kind of summoning," Professor Schuester agreed. "Actually. . .Rachel, I think you might enjoy this."

For the first time Rachel (and, for that matter, the rest of the students) glanced down at the music in their hands. Most of the boys just looked confused, but Kurt's face broke into a broad smile, while Rachel actually screamed in joy, before running to the front of the room.

"This is. . .this is _fantastic_," she gushed. "Professor, I just never thought that you would ever recognize the true value in such seminal Broadway classics!"

"Right. . .um. . .so, this spell is typically used to summon things from far away, things that can't just be pulled and dragged along. People, for instance. . ."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jesse drawled. "Blaine seemed to come just fine with a simple summoning charm. . ."

Kurt balled his hands up into fists, but Blaine gently untangled one to slip his fingers in. Professor Schuester just continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.

"Or sometimes objects that are very large, or powerful enough to resist a summoning charm. So, Rachel, why don't you try inserting a person's name in, and see if it works."

"Absolutely, Professor Schuester, I would be honored!"

Uh-oh. Kurt totally recognized that glint in his friend's eyes. Though she had an innocent expression on her face, and was peering intently at the music, he had a very good idea of what she was planning. He glanced over at Finn, who looked clueless as ever.

"_Oh, it's turned so cold, it's past your bedtime_

_ You've played the day away and soon it will be night"_

Rachel could be beyond irritating at times, but Kurt had to admit that she had a truly breathtaking voice. Everyone in the class was staring at her with rapt attention.

"_Come to me, Finn, the light is fading_

_ Don't you see the evening star appearing?_

_ Come to me and rest against my shoulder"_

Before she could even continue with the song there was a slight popping noise, and then Finn disappeared. A moment later he reappeared, standing now beside Rachel, who looked immensely pleased with herself. Blais Zabini nodded his head, apparently satisfied by whatever he'd seen, and walked out the door. Blaine glanced at Kurt, who nodded to show that he'd seen it, too.

It was pretty clear what song Zabini expected Jesse to sing, to find the Elder Wand.

**A/N: Oh, Rachel. How I do love thee.**

**COMING SOON: The Tournament Feast with Harry Freakin' Potter! Meanwhile, Mercedes gets a girlfriend, Finn grows a pair and Rachel comes up with a plan (sorry, Blaine, you're just too much of a wimp!) Also. . .the THIRD TASK! Bum bum bum.**


	18. The Champions' Feast: Part One

13:57

**A/N: I am so, so sorry. It's the end of the summer for me, so I haven't had any free time, what with saying good-bye to people, finishing up loose ends and work, and figuring out everything for the upcoming school year. Similarly, soon I embark on the 13 hour car ride back home, so there won't be updates on any of my stories for about a week. I have only this measly, half a chapter to tide you through, but I felt so awful about not updating that I just decided to hand it out to you. **

The day of the Third Task was overcast, which really wasn't ideal, since Kurt was certain that it would entail some kind of enchanted maze, as all of the previous Tournaments had. At least the maze would be safer than the previous tasks. . .they could always run away, or apparate out if danger threatened. No, what was far more interesting to Kurt at the moment was choosing the exact right outfit to wear to the pre-task Feast.

He'd considered wearing his outfit from the Yule Ball. As fantastic as it was, however, he thinks that it might be a little overdone for the feast. He'd talked about it with the rest of his friends, but other than Rachel, who would be sitting at the head table, they were all just planning on wearing their regular school robes.

"Mercedes, why does nobody understand what an ideal opportunity for fashion this feast presents?" Kurt whined. His best friend just glanced up at him over the top of her Potions Essay.

"I don't know. . ." she said. "Listen, Kurt, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something. . ."

"Finally!" he said with a grin, sinking down beside her. "Finally somebody understands how important it is to be fashionable. This will be in the papers, you know. Rita Skeeter will be there. Now, I think that you should definitely go with a gold ensemble. It's appropriate for Gryffindor, of course, and it will really accentuate your eyes. Besides, gold is so glamorous. Wait. . .I have just the scarf!"

He ran up to the room to grab the scarf for her. James was sprawled across his bed, apparently writing a letter home, since an owl was sitting just beside him. Kurt ignored him (he also ignored Hugo and Thomas, who were trying to see how many Gobsmackers they could fit in their mouths at one time). It took a little rummaging, but pretty soon he found the scarf that he was looking for.

"Um. . .Kurt. . ." James said, just as he was heading out of the room. Kurt froze. It wasn't that he didn't like James. . .it was just that they had absolutely nothing in common. In fact, he was pretty sure that in the last five years they'd only exchanged a half dozen sentences with one another.

"Yeah?"

"I think Mercedes wanted to talk to you," the other boy said, a little awkwardly. Weird, Kurt thought, though he supposed that it shouldn't surprise him that James and Mercedes were friends. 'Cedes was incredibly friendly, and got along with just about everybody.

"Yes, we're picking out her outfit for the feast tonight," Kurt said. "I'll. . .uh. . .see you later, James."

"Later," James said.

Weird.

Mercedes was still sitting beside the fire when he came out. She looked up at him with a bright smile as he held out the scarf.

"Kurt, it's beautiful!" she gasped. He preened a little because, yeah, his fashion sense was impeccable. "And actually, speaking of beautiful. . ."

Just then there was a knock on the door. Kurt patted Mercedes on the arm. He wanted to hear her news – she was his best friend, after all – but there was no way that he was going to leave Blaine just standing at the door, knocking. So he bolted over and flung it open. . .only to see a sheepish Finn standing there, holding up two pairs of socks.

"Um. . .I forgot which ones you told me to wear," he said.

Kurt rolled his eyes, pointed at the correct pair (the black ones, _honestly_, Finn) before turning back to his girl. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Oh, nothing," Mercedes said with a small smile, standing up. "Now's not really a good time. I'd better get ready for the feast."

"Do you want me to help you with your make-up?"

Another knock. Mercedes cocked one eyebrow and smirked at him. "You just let your boo in," she said, before heading up to the girls' dormitory. Kurt counted to three before going and opening the door. After all, he didn't want to appear eager and desperate.

Blaine was standing there, hand upraised as though to knock again. A broad grin instantly crossed his face, crinkling up his eyes at the corner, so the green in them was even more prominent. Kurt couldn't help himself. He grabbed the other boy by the lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Hmm," Blaine murmured as they pulled across, his eyes still closed. "Usually I don't appreciate not being given a hello, but I suppose I could take that instead."

Kurt flushed, grabbed Blaine by the hand, and began towing him down the hallway. "So, here's what I'm thinking," he said hurriedly, trying to keep his voice down low. "You sit at the head table for the feast, with Harry Potter, so you'll have the perfect opportunity to. . ."

Blaine interrupted him, putting a hand over his mouth, and kind of pushing him toward the wall. "Shh," he hissed, glancing around the hallway nervously. "I don't really think we should be talking about that in front of everyone!"

Kurt crossed his arms, humphing irritably. He did not appreciate having a hot, sweaty hand pressed against his mouth. He spent hours on skincare, and it was absolutely ridiculous that Blaine would try to mar it for no reason.

"So where should we talk about this, then?" Kurt asked archly. "Nobody's paying attention, Blaine. Nobody cares. They're all too focused on themselves."

Blaine growled a little in his throat, presumably frustrated. Kurt's eyebrow rose a little higher. He knew that his boyfriend (?) was upset, but he didn't think it was unreasonable to find that little growl sexy. He wondered, idly, what else could make Blaine make a noise like that. . .

"We just need to find a classroom, or something," Blaine said, fidgeting a little. "This is kind of a big deal, Kurt."

"You think I don't know that finding the most powerful wand in existence is a big deal?" Kurt asked. Blaine sighed again. Before Kurt could start tearing the other boy a new one (he might be the most perfect boy on earth, but even the most perfect guy on earth did _not_ get to condescend to a Hummel!) the wall beside them started shifting. Blaine and Kurt froze, and in unison turned to stare at the door.

"That's new," Blaine said, his voice flat. Kurt just blinked. The rest of the students continued to just stream past.

"Well. . ." Kurt bit his lip. Then he shrugged. It shouldn't be so surprising, really, doors appearing out of thin air. After all, they lived in a castle where staircases routinely moved around and people in pictures disappeared for hours at a time to take naps. He reached out, grabbed the door with one hand and Blaine with the other, and tugged the older boy in with him. Blaine, to his credit, managed to cut his squawk off halfway through and stumbled in more or less on his own volition.

The door slammed shut behind them, and they were left in the darkness, for just a moment, as their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. As his eyes did adjust, Kurt sucked in a deep breath. This place was. . .was. . .

It was a massive disaster, is what it was. It looked like Burt's attic before Kurt had done spring cleaning, if it mated with Finn's closet and then spat out hideously disorganized babies that promptly got it on with the Potions room. There was clutter _everywhere_. Stacks of books on tables, knickknacks in bookcases, brooms on the ground, statutes and baubles and and and

"I can't take it!" Kurt gasped, before instantly going to the first table that he saw and beginning to tidy it up. Blaine whistled a little.

"Wow. . ." he said. "There's so much stuff!"

There was silence for a moment, as Kurt continued to tidy and Blaine just looked curiously at an old pot that appeared to have little glass ballerina figures inside of it.

"Hey," Blaine finally broke the silence. "Do you think there's any chance that Elder Wand is in here?"

That got Kurt's attention. He considered for a moment, his hands pausing their frantic movements, and turned to look at the other boy. When he saw that Blaine's eyebrow was jauntily lifted, saw the twinkle in his eye and the gentle curve of his lip, however, he realized it was a joke and let out an undignified snort.

"If only it were so easy," he giggled. Blaine laughed a little, too, before walking over to Kurt's side.

"So," Blaine said, his voice so low and gravelly that it sent shivers up Kurt's spine. "What you were talking about earlier. . ."

"Yes?" Kurt whispered, licking his lips. He wouldn't classify the feeling as butterflies – more like rhinos were stampeding through his stomach.

"What am I supposed to say to Harry Potter at the head table?"

Oh, right, that. Kurt sighed and pulled back. "You just have to explain the situation to him," he said. "Start with talking about the Elder wand. That should get his attention."

"I don't know. . ." Blaine said, sounding a little dubious. "Maybe I should ease him into it. Start by talking about the Triwizard Tournament, and how it might be rigged, and. . ."

"Blaine," Kurt said urgently, grabbing his boyfriend's arm. "Trust me on this. Do _not_ try to ease him into it."

"But. . ."

"No. Trust me, Blaine."

Blaine sighed. He opened his mouth, and Kurt was fully prepared to argue with him again, except that his lips curled slowly upward, until white teeth were glinting in the dim lighting. Blaine winked at Kurt, before leaning around him and grabbing something off the table. He pulled back a moment later, holding a long. . .feathery. . .well, Kurt wasn't sure what it was, but it was sure to be filled with dust and bacteria.

"Feeling kinky?" Blaine teased. Kurt was pretty sure that all of his blood was now centered in his face. He must have been practically glowing, his face felt so hot. Blaine, meanwhile, had also obviously noticed it, as his grin grew even wider. With an exaggerated sigh he threw the feather-duster-sextoy-atrocity to the side. "Oh well," he said. "Maybe in a month, or two."

Kurt must have squawked, because there was no way, in a month, a year, or a decade that he was ever going to do anything with that. . .that. . .disgusting, vile piece of cleaning equipment. He was just about ready to say so when he noticed that Blaine was still smirking, clearly enjoying himself far too much. So Kurt sighed instead, and stuck a finger in the other boys' face.

"You," he said decisively, "are getting much too cocky for your own good."

"Moi?"

Whatever Blaine was going to say next was cut off by the press of Kurt's lips.

**A/N: So, sorry you only get half a chapter. I'll catch up soon, I promise! Also, more concrete jungle around the same time, for those of you reading that.**

**COMING SOON:**

"**Blaine. . .Blaine. . .what did you do?"**

** "I. . .um. . .I tried to ease him into it. . ."**


	19. The Champions' Feast: Part Two

13:57

**A/N: Woot! Back! Nearing the end. Kind of an awkward chapter. Just had to set some things up for the FINAL SHOWDOWN! So a bit clunky, but the next three should be better. Enjoy!**

The food at the Feast was amazing, though that was to be expected at Hogwarts. The Hufflepuff Table was a veritable feeding frenzy, caused almost exclusively by Finn's apparent need to shovel every miniscule morsel of food down his gaping maw at one time. He was sitting alone, for the first time that Kurt could remember. Sam was sitting a little further down the table, beside Quinn. They were staring each other in the eyes, passing little bits of food back and forth and giggling. Across the table from them, Santana and Brittany were doing the same thing. At the Gryffindor table, the students were all similarly enjoying their food. Hugo was magicking his to his mouth, making motoring noises and airplane shotgun sounds, while James loudly reminded everyone that they were cousins, and thus not really related.

Kurt, however, couldn't pay attention to the food. His attention was firmly fixed on the Head Table. Figgins was sitting in his normal spot, of course, but beside him was the famous Harry Potter. Kurt had been a little disappointed when the wizard had walked in. He'd seen Mr. Potter dozens of times, of course, at King's Crossing, or shopping in Diagon Alley. He knew that, for all of his fame, Mr. Potter wasn't particularly impressive looking. He was short, with unruly black hair, and a pair of horribly outdated spectacles. But Kurt had assumed that he would have dressed up a bit for the Champions Feast.

Seated on Figgins other side was Blais Zabini, the other guest of honor. Jesse st. James was seated beside him. Seated directly beside Mr. Potter was Rachel, and then Blaine beside her. When they'd first taken their seats, Kurt had glared at Blaine, who had just shrugged helplessly as Rachel surged forward. At least, Kurt tried to console himself, Rachel also knew about all of the intrigue going on with the Tournament. And she was a smart girl. Surely she would realize that they had to warn Mr. Potter.

As he watched throughout the meal, however, he saw Rachel animatedly pointing at Finn, and nodding her head. Mr. Potter was grinning. Clearly, they were not discussing the tournament.

"What is so hard about this?" Kurt growled as the dessert dishes appeared, and treacle tart beginning making its way down the table.

"That's what he said," Hugo snickered. James rolled his eye, and cuffed the other boy upside the head.

"That's not even how the joke goes," he said.

"Yeah, but Kurt's a dude, and Blaine's a dude," Hugo said. "So I doubt there's gonna be any 'she' around."

Everybody gaped at the little Weasley for a long moment, before Mercedes snickered and James flushed bright red.

"Well," Mercedes giggled, "new sure does travel fast."

Kurt couldn't decide whether to be annoyed, upset, or pleased that everyone knew that Blaine and he were an item. (He was pretty sure that making out in the bizarre, magically appearing junk room meant that they were official). Mostly, he was still just staring at the head table, praying that somehow Rachel would get his telepathic message to talk to Mr. Potter, or that Blaine would just mow her down and do it himself.

But alas, the world continued to find his life a cruel joke, as Figgins stood up and moved to the front of the room.

"Once again, we would like to thank Mr. Harry Potter for joining us. . ." Figgins had to pause a moment as the students all cheered, and particularly as Lily leapt up on a table to yell "yeah, Dad!" and Hugo screamed "Go Uncle Harry!" When the fervor died down again, Figgins continued. "As you all know, tomorrow will be the final round of the Triwizard Tournament, beginning at the 8 o'clock sharp. So everybody should go to bed – your _own_ beds – and get lots of sleep to cheer on Ms. Rachel Berry and Mr. Blaine Anderson tomorrow."

Blais Zabini cleared his throat.

"And also Mr. Jesse st. James from Durmstrang," Figgins hastily amended. "Also, whoever stole the fruit still life from the Fat Lady, please return it. That is all."

The Head Table stood up to leave, and Kurt stood up with them. He was pleased to see Blaine dart around Rachel, and grab at Harry Potter's arms. Students began filing out of the Great Hall, but Kurt ignored them as he watched the exchange. At first Mr. Potter looked mildly amused, but that was quickly replaced by a look of annoyance. He shook his head three times, before patting Blaine on the back and walking off.

"Kurt?" Mercedes tugged at his sleeve. "Are you coming?"

"Hold on a second. . ."

Blaine looked devastated. Perhaps, Kurt thought, that was too strong a word, but his boyfriend certainly looked like someone had suckerpunched him. When their eyes met across the hallway, Blaine's hazel eyes were filled with a quiet pain. He shrugged, a little abashed.

"I'll meet you back in the common room," Kurt said, patting Mercedes shoulder before walking over to join the other boy.

"Blaine. . .Blaine, what happened?"

"I. . .um. . .I tried to ease him into it. . ."

Kurt sighed and closed his eyes, trying not to get too irritated. He'd _told_ Blaine not to mention all of the build-up. . .it just made him sound like a privileged Hogwarts kid, complaining about the competition being rigged.

"What did he say?"

"He. . .uh. . ." Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, leaving black curls springing up all over. "He told me not to be paranoid, and that there would be plenty of teachers there, and that Voldemort was dead."

Kurt shook his head. "Well. . .I guess it will be okay. I mean, Mr. Potter defeated Voldemort when _he_ had the Elder Wand. And Coach Sylvester isn't evil. We just need. . .we just need to figure out some way to make sure that you and Rachel make it safely back to the castle."

"Just me," Blaine whispered.

Kurt glanced up, but his boyfriend was refusing to look at him, staring instead at the ground.

"What?"

"Just me," Blaine said again. "Rachel. . .um. . .she said that she'll go. That she'll try to stop them. So it's just me who has to come back to the castle. . .God, Kurt, I'm sorry, I'm such a coward, I _hate_ that about me. . ."

Kurt's heart broke a little. This was not the Blaine Anderson he knew, that he'd looked up to for five years. This wasn't the confident Hufflepuff who had girls following after him, who sang love songs with a cocksure swagger and who snuck out of the castle with Finn and Sam. The Blaine that he knew wasn't afraid of anything – except for maybe heights – and had already won an award for Special Services to the School when he and James had single-handedly taken on the boggart that had snuck into the kitchen their second year.

"It's okay," Kurt said softly, reaching forward impulsively and hugging the other boy. "But what's wrong, Blaine. . .I mean, really?"

"I don't know. This isn't me, I don't. . ." Blaine shook his head, brushed the back of his hand against his eyes. "No. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, Blaine. . .there's something else going on with you."

"It's nothing," Blaine said resolutely. "Anyway. I should be getting back to the common room. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, a little stunned by the abrupt departure. He watched as Blaine walked back out of the room. There was definitely something going on with the other boy. Maybe it was just the stress of the Tournament, or the events of the second task, but somehow, Kurt didn't think so.

Because he knew Blaine, better than he knew himself, he sometimes thought. Sure, most of the time that he'd known the other boy had been spent in blind idolatry, but even then he'd watched and noticed. He knew Blaine wasn't a coward. He hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor, but he hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin, either, despite coming from a pureblood family that was put in the snake house as often as Weasleys were sorted into Gryffindor. Something else was going on.

Kurt shook his head. He walked back to the common room, deep in thought. They still hadn't figured out how to get Blaine and Rachel (whether she liked it or not) back safely to the castle. And he kind of didn't want Blaine to spend the night alone, tormented by his thoughts and with only Finn's snores to keep him company.

And, yeah, he sort of just wanted a kiss good night. He'd never had a boyfriend before, and as nice as it had been so far, he still hadn't gotten the gentle kiss goodnight, or the romantic brush of fingertips. He deserved that, dammit.

"Hey, James," Kurt said the minute he walked into the boys' dormitory. "Can I borrow your dad's Invisibility Cloak?"

"Sure," James said. He was currently lying on his stomach across the bed, perusing an old edition of the Quibbler. He leaned over to his chest, and grabbed a heavy fabric, tossing it across the room to Kurt. "Just return it in the morning."

Kurt caught the cloak, surprised by how heavy it was. He quirked one eyebrow at the other boy. "You're just going to let me borrow it? You're not even going to ask what for?"

"I know what it's for," James said, rolling his eyes. "You want to go visit Blaine and get your rainbow on."

Kurt's jaw dropped. Across the room, Hugo giggled. James just waved his hand.

"I don't want the details," he said. "And please take it off before you guys do anything that could. . .you know. . .stain."

Kurt was pretty sure that his face was bright red. So red, in fact, that he thought that if he put the cloak on, it might glow a little.

"We're not going to. . .James that's completely inappropriate. . .I mean I didn't. . ."

"That's what he said," Hugo snorted. James rolled his eyes.

"That one doesn't even make sense," he complained. Kurt bit his lip and pulled the cloak on over his head. He adjusted it carefully, arranging it in folds over his arms, and making sure that it covered his feet. He was just about to turn and check with James to see if he was really and truly invisibile, when a staccato sound filed the room, and the door was open.

"Dad?" James said, his face lighting up with a grin. He practically flew from his bed, nearly knocking Kurt over, and engulfed his father in a hug. Kurt grinned a little to see it – big man on campus, James Potter, leaning over to hug his diminuitive father. Hugo had also run over to give his uncle a hug.

"Hey, boys," Harry said, ruffling both of their heads. "Working hard in school."

Hugo stood up proudly. "Professor Flitwick told me that he hasn't seen wandwork like mine since Uncle George was in school."

Harry looked a little disturbed by that, although what he actuallys said was "that's. . .er. . .great, Hugo."

"I know," Hugo said, preening a little. "Even Rose was jealous, and she's never jealous of me."

"Right. . ." Harry and James exchanged sidelong glances, a family joke. Kurt felt a little awkward being in the same room as them, and wondered where the other Gryffindor boys were. He wanted to just leave, but knew it would be suspicious if the door suddenly just opened. And he wasn't entirely certain that James had his father's permission to lend out the cloak.

Harry cleared his throat. "Hugo, do you mind waiting downstairs for a moment? I want to have a word with James. Alone."

"Am I in trouble?" James asked at the same time that Hugo said "You mean I can stay out past curfew? Sweet!"

Kurt didn't react quickly enough to follow Hugo out the door. He often forgot how quickly the little Weasley could move when he was excited. It was a hyperactive blur of freckles and red hair. Kurt continued to just stand awkwardly.

"So. . ." Harry said, lifting one eyebrow. "When do I get to meet her?"

"Meet. . .er. . .meet who, Dad?" James asked uncomfortably.

"Your mom said you have a little girlfriend," Harry said teasingly. Kurt's ears perked up. New gossip? He hadn't heard anything about the Head Boy dating. Suddenly the Invisibility Cloak was getting much more interesting.

"No, it's not. . .it's not serioius yet, or anything. It's just . . .I mean, she's just. . ."

"James," Harry said, and his voice had gone oddly flat. "You know that you need to tell us these things."

"Dad. . ."

"No, it's for security," Harry said. "Yours and your little girlfriend."

"But Dad, Voldemort's gone. You and Uncle Ron have taken care of most of his followers and. . ."  
>"Most, James. Not all. There are still people who want nothing more than to hurt our family."<p>

Kurt gasped, a strangled little sound. James didn't react at all, but Harry cocked his head, as though he heard something. Kurt held in his breath. A minute ticked by without another sound. Harry shook his head and turned his attention back to his son.

"I just need to ask her some questions. Do a background check."

"But then everyone will know," James whined. "Dad, I just want to be normal for once. I don't want another Rita Skeeter article, I don't want those paparazzi following us around. . .I just want to be normal, for once."

"James, you are normal."

"No I'm not," James said, nearly bursting out with frustration. "I'm the son of Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived. I just want to date this girl and not have anyone know. I just don't want to deal with it. You're supposed to be famous, not me!"

"James. . ." Harry sighed, and sat down on the bed. He patted the spot beside him. "I know that it's not fair. I felt the same way when I was your age. But you have to let me do this. For the family."

Kurt was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable again. This wasn't juicy gossip – this was a poor kid being vulnerable. This was an intimate moment between father and son. He knew how awkward he felt whenever his dad tried to give him "talks" (he usually just stuck his fingers in his ears and tried to sing through it). But it was also uncomfortable because Mr. Potter was looking really. . .intense. And serious. And. . .he had his wand out.

"I'm not telling you, Dad," James said. "I'm just not."

"James, I'm so sorry," Harry said earnestedly, lifting his wand. "But I need to know. It's for your own good."

Oh for the love of Dumbledore. . .Harry Potter was going to magic a confession out of his own son. That just crossed the line. Kurt knew what it was like to have secrets – he'd been in the closet until he was fourteen, when he'd finally come out to his father. But he'd done it in his own time, at his own pace – he'd _needed_ that secret until then. If his father had forced it out of him, if he'd. . .

No, that was simply not okay. So as Harry Potter lifted his wand to cast some kind of truth spell, as James' eyes got wider, Kurt just glowered.

"_Expelliarmus_."

Harry's wand went flying through the air. Harry himself spun around, reached out an arm, and ripped the Invisibility Cloak off of Kurt.

Well. That was unanticipated.

Kurt reverted to his standby – good manners. He managed a careful smile and reached out a hand. He was proud to see that it was barely quivering.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry Potter just stared. "Who are you?" he asked, finally.

"Kurt Hummel, sir," Kurt said, jutting out his hip a little. "I'm a Gryffindor with James. And Hugo."

"Right. . ." Harry Potter said slowly. "Tell me, Kurt Hummel. . .why do you have my son's Invisibility Cloak? The one I _expressly_ told him not to lend out."

Kurt was extremely pleased that his eyes didn't dart over to James for even half a second. Nonetheless, he could tell that the other boy was stiffening up, the tension was that palpable. "Um. . .I sort of borrowed it without asking," Kurt said.

"You stole it."

"I prefer borrowed without asking."

"Uh-hmm. . ." Harry turned back to his son. "Why was he able to find it?" he asked. "I told you to keep it hidden. This is one of the Deathly Hallows. You _know_ what that means."

James mouth opened and closed, gaping a bit like a fish out of water. Kurt felt a rush of affection for the other boy, which was strange, because he and James didn't even like each other, they didn't even talk to one another. Nonetheless, he knew very well what it meant to have a father who loved him, but just didn't understand.

"It was hidden," Kurt blurted out. "I came upon it by accident. In a. . .um. . .a room that just appeared. The door just appeared, I mean. In a room I'd never seen before. It was filled out all sorts of different junk and. . ."

"The Room of Requirement," Harry said, his lips jerking a little. "Good to know it's still around. A bit surprising that it has new things in it all ready. How did you find it?"

"Uh. . ." Kurt's mind blanked. What was he supposed to say? That he'd wanted to make out with his boyfriend? James sniggered a little. Harry Potter glanced at his son and. . .wait. . .did he blush? Why yes, by Merlin's beard, Kurt was pretty sure that the killer of Voldemort actually blushed.

"Oh. . .ah. . .yes," Harry said. "I suppose that is how most people find it."

It took a moment for the older wizard to get ahold of himself again.

"Nonetheless," he said. "Hand it over. You can't just steal – excuse me, borrow without asking."

"Sorry," Kurt said meekly, handing it over.

"Where were you even going with it tonight?" Harry asked, seeming genuinely interested. James giggled again, and this time even the tips of Harry's ears turned red. "Oh. . .oh. . .well. . .all right then. I mean no! I mean. . ."

"No no no!" Kurt said, realizing where the other man's mind was going. "Not that! I mean. . .I was going to my boyfriend's, but not to. . ."

"Can I come back in?" Hugo asked, sticking his head around the door. "It's really boring downstairs. All the other guys are asleep and. . .hey, Kurt, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to go mack on Blaine."

"Hugo!" Kurt hissed. Harry Potter turned even redder (how was that _possible_?) and James was muffling his laughter with a pillow. How had this all gone so wrong?

"Wait. . .Blaine Anderson?" Harry asked, looking surprised. "The Champion? Shouldn't he be resting?"

"Yes!" Kurt practically exploded. "Except that we had to figure out a way that he would get back to the castle tomorrow, instead of accidently grabbing the Portkey that would take him to the Elder Wand, and. . ."

Kurt suddenly found himself pressed up against the wall. Harry was holding James' wand to his throat, and the green of his eyes had been almost swallowed by black. Kurt was suddenly reminded of all the stories he'd heard about the other mans' work as an Auror. For all that this was James' dad, it was also Harry Potter, who had killed Voldemort and who knew how many of his followers.

"What do you know about the Elder wand?"

"Nothing," Kurt said. "We just know that Coach Sylvester and Blais Zabini rigged the entire tournament so they can get it!"

Harry frowned, but released Kurt. He glanced back at his son.

"James. Hugo. Out, now."

Apparently hearing something serious in the older man's voice, both of the boys meekly left the room, James grinning a little, clearly glad to have escaped his father's interrogation. Kurt just swallowed.

"All right," Harry Potter said. "Start at the beginning, and tell me everything."

**A/N: Harry Potter, you bastard! Way to come in and completely take over the story. Gark. Also, in my little headcanon, the Potters are constantly being followed around by paparazzi, and James is a bit sick of it. Ergo, he tries to keep his relationship secret. Harry, terrified of a faulty Secret Keeper, wants to make sure he knows everything about everyone involved with his family. **

**COMING SOON: The Final Task! The rush for the Elder wand! Motives are explored, Klisses are exchanged, Rachel goes for her man, James' girlfriend comes out, and Professor Schuester finally gets to sing**


	20. The Third Task

13:57

**A/N: 100 reviews, over 100 alerts, dozens of favorites. . .thanks for all the support behind this story, guys! It means so much and is such a motivation. Getting to the end now. . .I think two more chapters and a (potential) epilogue. Wah wah wah.**

The three Champions were standing in a line, dressed in yet another of Blais Zabini's designs. This time, they weren't coordinated – each student was wearing his own house colors. All three of the Champions were wearing well-fitted black pants. Jesse had on a simple black jumper, tight and curving around his chest and back. Rachel's top was a deep emerald green, with silver and black threading around the neck and sleeves. Blaine's mirrored her design, but in black and yellow. As simple as the outfits were, the quality shone forth, and Kurt had to admire the fine worksmanship. Quality clothing, he thought with a smug nod. He would have to point it out to Finn – nice clothing didn't have to be extravagant.

Speaking of. . .Finn chose that very moment to walk up beside Kurt. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Kurt nodded. They stood in silence for a moment, continuing to stare at the champions. Jesse looked as confident as ever, winking and grinning at all of the gathered students. Rachel was also basking in the attention, smiling broadly and waving. Blaine, on the other hand, was trying to grin, but for the first time Kurt saw beneath the façade. He saw the other boy chewing on his bottom lip, recognized the slight tremble in his hands.

"This won't be dangerous, right?" Finn said, suddenly. "I mean. . .Figgins wouldn't let anyone get hurt."

"Well," Kurt said carefully. "Dave and Blaine got kind of mauled in the first task. And I almost plummeted to my death In the second task."

"Oh, yeah," Finn said. They stood in silence for a few more minutes, before Finn spoke again. "But Rachel's always been okay, right?" Kurt groaned.

"Finn, seriously, just ask her out. You've been mooning over her ever since Quinn went for Sam."

"Yeah, but. . .do you think she likes me?"

Pause appropriately for emphasis. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

Finn glanced at him sharply, and Kurt was prepared to have a nice, long lady-chat with his stepbrother. And didn't it just figure that Finn, after months of Kurt's best efforts (he'd even made warm milk!), was finally, at the worst time possible, willing to listen to his sage and superior advice. Luckily, he was saved by Mercedes appearance.

"Hey, boo!" she said, popping up beside him like the angel she was. "You guys worried?"

"Yes. . .I mean, no," Finn said quickly. "Why would I be nervous?"

"No reason," Mercedes said with a bit of a sing-song voice. She turned to Quinn, at her other shoulder. "You wish you were up there?"

"Absolutely not," Quinn said imperiously. "I couldn't be happier to be finished with this entire, ridiculous thing."

Overhead, thunder rumbled off somewhere in the distance. Kurt shuddered, and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. He'd worn his school scarf, of course, but he was beginning to wish that he'd worn his winter robes, as well.

"All right, then," Figgins said, standing up in front of the Champions. " As we all know, this is the final task. Before our Champions and Jesse st. James lies the labyrinth, filled with many challenges and dangers. Also within the maze are three Portkeys. Only one returns to the castle. The others will take the Champions into the Forbidden Forest. There will be a ten minute wait time before the Champion can return to the maze and seek out another Portkey."

Kurt reached out and grabbed Mercedes arm. He looked over toward the booth which had been reserved for the guests. Neither Blais Zabini nor Harry Potter were currently there. Blais, of course, was waiting at Dumbledore's tomb. Mr. Potter had told Kurt that he would be waiting in the nearby woods, as well. As soon as Jesse started singing the summoning, they would jump out and grab him.

It all depended, of course, upon the Champions finding the right Portkey.

Figgins held up a large posterboard. "The three Portkeys are. . .a metal badger, a metal snake, and a metal vulture, one for each of our Champions. Of course, only one is welcome in the castle."

Everybody went silent for a moment, so the thunder in the distance was even easier to hear.

"Dude. . ." Finn breathed out, "did he just admit that the badger will take the contestants back to the castle?"

"No. . ." Figgins said, his eyes shifting around nervously. "No, I did not say that. I absolutely did not. That is. . .no. I did not. Who says I like badgers?"

"Uh, isn't Snuffles the Badger your pet?" Hugo asked.

"Weren't you a Hufflepuff?" James yelled.

"No. I mean yes. I mean. . ." Figgins huffed, and turned to look at the Champions. "Now, remember. If you get into trouble, send up red sparks and one of our Professors will instantly aid you. Now. On your mark. . .get set. . ."

All three champions brought their wands up, and got into a running stance. Kurt held his breath.

"and go!"

They took off like shots, darting into the large maze, composed of bushes and trees and. . .whatever else made up mazes. In a moment of perfect synchronicity, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky. Kurt did not let out a girly little squeak. Finn, however did.

All of the students stood for a long moment, staring toward where the students had disappeared. It was, unsurprisingly, Finn who broke the silence.

"This is kind of boring. What do we do now?"

"Go back to the castle," Kurt said. "Wait."

"You know," Mercedes said thoughtfully, "they should really create some spell that lets us watch them. I mean, there's magic that lets us cut in to that Jersey Shore show, I don't see why we can't watch the Champions."

Kurt didn't see why, either, but there was nothing else to do except return to the castle and wait on the other end of the Portkey.

Xxx

It had been five hours. Five hours, and no signal that anyone was even alive. Figgins had assured them that this was normal, that it often took Champions much longer to make it through the labyrinth. Nonetheless, Kurt couldn't help but glance nervously at the dark storm clouds above. There hadn't been any rain yet, but the streaks of lightning were flashing more and more often, sometimes arching down into the maze.

"They would know if someone died, right?" Finn asked nervously. "Like. . .if a tree fell on someone. They would know."

"What they do is put a tracking kind of device into their jumpers," Artie explained helpfully. "If their body temperature changes drastically, we know."

"Besides, I'm sure there's an enchantment on them," Tina agreed. "There has to be, right? I mean, they're only students. It's only a game."

Kurt didn't say anything. He just continued to stare at the silver badger. He was concentrating so hard that he assumed, when it began to shimmer lightly, that it was just his eyes fuzzing out. Until, that is, Mercedes pointed at it.

"There!" she said excitedly. "Does that mean"

She didn't even have a chance to finish her sentence, before Rachel and Jesse suddenly shimmered into existence, both with broad smiles on their faces, that faded almost immediately when they realized where they were.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Jesse snarled.

"I don't know!" Rachel said, stomping her foot. "I specifically didn't pick the badger."

The two continued to bicker back and forth, while Jesse kept poking at the small, silver badger, as though wishing himself back into the labyrinth.

Kurt stared at them.

Neither of them had touched the badger. The badger which was supposed to take a Champion back to the castle. Jesse hadn't wanted to come back to the castle, and it didn't surprise Kurt to hear that Rachel hadn't wanted to, either. Winning came in second to owning the most powerful wand in existence, and Rachel was nothing if not a Slytherin, ambitious to the core. But Blaine. . .Blaine was a dependable, loyal, reliable Hufflepuff. He should have grabbed the badger Portkey.

He should be in the castle.

"Rachel!" Mercedes screamed, running forward and clutching her friend in a massive hug. "I can't believe you won!"

"Why won't this damn thing work?" Jesse asked, angrily throwing the badger to the ground. Kurt followed it with his eyes, tracking the trajectory as it hit the ground and bounched.

Where was Blaine?

"I won?" Rachel asked blankly, before throwing her hair over her shoulder, and beginning to preen. "I mean. . .that's right. I _was_ in the lead to begin with, and I returned at the same time as Jesse, so I supposed I _am_ the Triwizard Champion, which isn't surprising at all given my – umph!"

Her words were abruptly cut off as Finn engulfed her in his frankenteen arms. He pulled the short girl up, and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her feet were dangling a good foot above the ground. It should have looked ridiculous, but somehow it just looked incredibly sweet. Kurt glanced back at the silver badger.

"Dude," Dave came running up, his face pale and ashen. He clapped one meaty hand on Jesse's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Dave, I'm okay," Jesse snarled. "What the fuck did you think? That I wouldn't get out all right?"

"No," Dave said, shuffling his feet a little. "I just thought."

"Whatever," Jesse said, going over and grabbing the Portkey again. "Why won't this fucking thing work?"

Blais Zabini was still missing. Coach Sylvester was still missing. And, for that matter, Harry Potter was still missing. Kurt sucked in a deep breath. He wanted to go ask Rachel and Jesse if they'd seen his boyfriend, but he realized that he didn't have to. He knew where Blaine was. He didn't know how, or why the Portkey had been been switched, but clearly it had been, and at that moment, his boyfriend was. . .was. . .

He couldn't even imagine it, didn't want to. He just knew that he had to get Blaine here, to safety, away from crazy, power-hungry older wizards who wanted Voldemort's old wand. There was only one spell he knew that was powerful enough to summon people, and he silently thanked Professor Schuester for finally teaching them something useful.

He took a deep breath, and began to sing.

"_Oh, it's turned so cold, it's past your bedtime_

_ You've played the day away and soon it will be night_

_ Come to me, Blaine, the light is fading_

_ Don't you see the evening star appearing?_

_ Come to me and rest against my shoulder. . ._"

As he sang, the world began to shimmer, to fade around him into a strange darkness, and Kurt had to curse once again his inability to ever really master Musical Lyricism. He closed his eyes against the encroaching darkness, fighting against the nausea in his stomach.

He heard them before he saw them. A familiar voice, pitched low and dangerous, and Blaine's beautiful, throaty response.

"This isn't just for me. It's an opportunity to make your father proud. Isn't that what you've always wanted, Blaine? For your daddy to be proud of you?"

"It was buried for a reason. Mr. Potter knew what he was doing and. . .what's that?"

"Don't try and distract me. . ."

"No is that. . .Kurt? Kurt?"

He opened his eyes, and blinked twice, until hazel eyes and triangle eyebrows came into view.

"Um. . .hi, Blaine."

"All right," Harry Potter said. "Start at the beginning, and tell me everything."

**A/N: Hahaha. . .oh, Kurt, you may be able to do wandless magic, but you fail at Magical Lyricism. Ho ho ho.**

**COMING SOON: Who will gain control of the Elder Wand? Who was Blaine talking to? Will Finn and Rachel stay together? Who is James' boo?**


	21. The Pensieve

13:57

**A/N: Hmm. . .Rachel and James? Yeah, I can see it. Is that weird? Maybe in the sequel. . .**

**Joking, joking. There will be no sequel. Don't get excited. Now then. . .on with the show!**

Kurt sat up slowly, still a little disoriented from his abrupt, backwards Summoning attempt. He was in the Forbidden Forest, he realized almost immediately. The towering, thick oaks were a dead giveaway, as was the way that the sun trickled through the leaves, turning everything a sickly blue color. He shivered a little when he heard the thunder above, not sounding very distant at all.

Blaine was kneeling beside him now, hazel eyes concerned and worried. Kurt shrugged him off. . .he needed to be able to concentrate, to think, and he couldn't do that when Blaine was so nearby. His first worry, of course, had been that his boyfriend was injured – that Coach Sylvester or Blais Zabini, angry that someone other than Jesse had shown up, would have cast a heinous spell and caused the boy to break out into boils, or go cross-eyed, or grow zits. But Blaine seemed more or less alright. His left sleeve was tattered, and a smear of dirt crossed his nose (it was rather adorable, really). There was a thin cut against one cheekbone. All of them, thought Kurt, looked like injuries sustained in the labyrinth, not the product of an evil fashion designer's spells.

But neither Blais Zabini nor Coach Sylvester were in the clearing with them. And, for that matter, it didn't look like the place that the tunnel came out, the place where Kurt had overheard the plan in the first place. This was a part of the forest he had never been in. Other than the crash of thunder, it was completely silent.

"Well, Kurt, this is certainly a surprise."

"Likewise," Kurt said, peering up at Professor Schuester. Blaine helped him up, until they were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing their Magical Lyricism professor. A thousand pieces of the puzzle were whizzing through Kurt's brain, but he couldn't for the life of him understand how they fit together.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt and Professor Schuester asked at the same time.

"I tried to cast the Summoning spell that you taught us," Kurt admitted, his habitual deference to teachers causing him to respond to the question instantly. "But you know I'm not very good at Magical Lyricism. . .I guess I summoned myself to Blaine, instead of the other way around."

Blaine elbowed him in the side. "He wants the Elder wand," he hissed. Kurt's gaze whipped around, snake fast, to stare at his professor.

"You want the. . .but. . ._you_ rigged the competition?"

"Of course not," Professor Schuester snorted. He seemed to consider this for a moment, before shaking his head. "Well. . .not much anyway. I made sure that Blaine was a competitor. After that, all of the rigging was by Zabini and Sylvester."

Kurt shook his head. "But. . .how. . .why?"

"That's not important," Professor Schuester said impatiently. "What is important is that I need that wand, and I need Blaine to get it for me."  
>Kurt gnawed at his lip. It still didn't make any sense. Professor Schuester was one of the good guys, he was almost certain of it. Maybe he just didn't know that Harry Potter already knew about the rigged tournament. That was probably it. Kurt could just explain the original plan, and how they wouldn't get the elder wand anyway, and then they could all head back to the castle to celebrate Rachel's victory.<p>

He was just about to suggest that, when Blaine took a step forward, putting himself between Kurt and their professor. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders thrust back. It was his façade of confidence, the showmanship that he put on before every performance.

"No, it is important," Blaine said. "You want me to do this for you. I need to know why."

"This is a powerful artifact, young man," Professor Schuester said. "You know that Blais Zabini rigged the tournament to get it. It cannot fall into the wrong hands."

Exactly, Kurt thought, and was getting ready to explain everything, when Blaine shook his head.

"No," he said. "No, that's not it. You want it for yourself. I'm not stupid, this isn't about stopping them. If you just wanted to stop them, you'd be where they are. Why did you want me to win?"

"Because I know you, Blaine," Professor Schuester said, placatingly. He walked forward, and placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. The boy jerked under it, hard enough that his elbow jostled Kurt. Professor Schuester either didn't notice, or ignored the reaction. "I know how incredibly talented you are. I know that you can do this. And I know that I can trust you."

"But I don't know if I can trust you," Blaine said. Kurt gasped.

"Blaine, he's a _teacher_."

Enough was enough. Professor Schuester was just trying to do a good thing, he didn't know what was going on. It was all just a miscommunication.

"It's okay, Professor Schue," he said. "We told Harry Potter all about how the tournament was rigged, and how they want the elder wand. He's there, now, so he was going to catch them before anything happened. You don't have to keep the wand safe."

The teacher turned to stare at him, then, and his eyes were cold, expressionless. Kurt shivered. He'd only seen eyes like those in the papers, the prisoners of Azkaban, the former followers of Voldemort.

"I know that," Professor Schuester said. "That was always the plan. Coach Sylvester set it all up. Helped Jesse win. So that when the two of them started to cast a spell, they could finally catch him. Mr. Weasley and his Aurors are there as well." He chuckled a little. "I'd imagine it's a bit of a clusterfuck, now, if Harry Potter is there as well."

Kurt just blinked. Professor Schue smiled a little benevolently.

"Blais Zabini is one of the Dark Lord's followers," he said. "The Ministry has been trying to catch him for almost twenty years, but he's sly. There hasn't been a way to tie him to the war, no way to prove that he's on the Dark side. But if they caught him trying to steal the elder wand, they could lock him up forever.

"I'm supposed to be there now," Professor Schuester said idly. "Coach Sylvester trusted me. I was supposed to help capture him, interrupt the spell if need be. I know about Magical Lyricism, it was my idea to entomb the wand so that was the only way to get it out. She told me about the Portkeys. It was easy to switch them."

He frowned a little at that, and glanced at Blaine. "Honestly, though," he mused. "This would all have been a little easier if Rachel had won. I expected that she would – that she would want to get back to the castle and be crowned the Triwizard Champion. When I switched the destinations of the Portkeys, I was almost sure that she would get here first. And with her talent and ambition, she would have helped me."

He shrugged. "Still," he said with a grin, "you might be more talented."

Kurt reached forward and clutched Blaine's hand, holding it tightly. The other boy was trembling – they both were, actually. He tried to squeeze reassuringly, but he wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort, his boyfriend, or himself. None of this was going the way he'd expected.

"But why do you want it?" Blaine asked tremulously. "I don't understand why"

"Because," Professor Schuester said with a sigh. "I'm not a bad person, Blaine. You know that. You know it, Kurt. I'm one of the good guys. All I've ever been was a good guy. But that's not my dream."

Kurt cleared his throat. "If all you need is a Magical Lyricism spell," he said softly. "Why don't you just sing it yourself."

Professor Schuester snapped his fingers and pointed at him. His eyes were wild, and his hair had broken free of the gell and was poking up in haphazard curls all over his head. "That's it!" he said triumphantly. "That's exactly it! Haven't you ever wondered why I never demonstrated spells myself? Why I'd always have Blaine, or Rachel, or Jesse, or Quinn show it off, even if they'd never cast the spell themselves? I'm like you, Kurt. I'm a great singer, a terrific performer, but I just can't cast the spells. I'm a failure."

"Kurt's not a failure," Blaine protested. Kurt shrugged.

"Well. . ." He said slowly. "I kind of am. I mean, I'm here, instead of you being back at the castle, right?"

"All I want to do is perform," Professor Schuester said dreamily. "It's my dream. Aren't we all allowed to dream? But I could never compete with people like Jesse st. James, who would magic people into loving him. I couldn't even compete with my own students, with a sixteen year old boy who made everyone fall in love with him just by singing, with a fifteen year old girl who brought tears to people's eyes with the sound of her voice."

He lunged forward suddenly, grabbing Blaine by the front of his sweater, pulling him forward sharply and ignoring the cry of protest. "But with the elder wand. . ." he said fiercely. "With all that power, I could headline. My name would be in stars."

"That sounds awfully selfish. . ." Blaine said uncertainly. "It doesn't even sound fair. People should like your music for itself, not because you magicked them into it."

Kurt snorted. Blaine glanced over to look at him, his eyes full of hurt. "Sorry," Kurt said, a little ashamed, but unable to keep the smile off his face. "It's just. . .he has a point. You and Rachel could sound like dump trucks and you'd still have fans."

"That's not. . ." Blaine's face screwed up, his eyebrows comoing together to join in a thick v over his nose. "Are you saying I sound like a dumptruck when I sing?"

Kurt stared at him. Really? He wanted to go into something like that right now?

"It's not just about me," Professor Schuester said. "It's you, too, Blaine. Think of how proud your father would be, if _you_ found the Elder wand, if _you_ controlled one of the Deathly Hallows."

The dumptruck comment was clearly forgotten. Blaine was just staring ahead now. A drop of water fell on Kurt's face, and for a moment he thought it was a tear. He didn't think he was crying, but it wouldn't be the first time that he'd overemoted. Still, when he reached up to touch his face, another droplet of water hit him on his hand. Clearly, it had begun to rain.

Blaine didn't say anything. Professor Schuester stepped in closer.

"That's all you really want, isn't it, Blaine? To make Daddy proud?"

Blaine didn't answer, he just stared straight ahead. Not at Professor Schuester, but at something beyond him. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Kurt began sucking in hot sharp breaths. A flash of lightning briefly lit up the clearing, illuminating the insanity in their professor's eyes, casting strange shadows across the planes of his face.

"Just think about. Think about all the times you've disappointed him. This could be your chance at redemption. Don't you remember, Blaine? All of the disappointments."

Kurt's hand was suddenly empty, as Blaine let go. His arm fell when the contact disappeared, clunking uselessly against his side. Blaine still wasn't saying anything, and refused to meet their professor's eyes. Schuester sighed, before finally reaching to his pocket and pulling out a wand and a vial.

"Remember, Blaine," he said.

The professor moved unbelievably fast. Kurt realized that they'd never seen the older man cast a spell, never seen him do any magic. But he moved as sharp as a snake, his elbow snaking out. His wand was by the side of Blaine's head before either of the boys' understood what was happening. He drew out a string of bright light. Kurt gasped and lunged forward.

"No! What are you!"

Schuester just shoved him aside, flicked his wrist, and stepped back. The tendrils of light were still spun around his wand, as he walked backwards a few steps.

"Let's take a look, Blaine," he said soothingly. His voice was rolling over them in soft, ocean waves. Kurt realized suddenly that this was a spell. . .it wasn't Magical Lyricism, but it was something like it. He moved forward like a dream, to a small pond. Professor Schuester dipped his wand into it, and it instantly lit up a strange blue green. Kurt watched greedily as small figures appeared in the depths of the water, faceless, ghostly figures walking across a crowded street. Professor Schuester made a beckoning motion with his hand.

"Come on, Blaine," he said softly, almost seductively. "Take a look. _Remember_."

When Blaine lowered his face into the water, Kurt mirrored him. There was a sick, roiling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was going on, something was not right, but at that moment, he just wanted to see. . .

Xxx

_He is standing in the Great Hall, but it's different, somehow. He doesn't see the walls – they're just fading figures in the background. He can't see the students, either, but he knows they're there. A few faces jump out to him – Finn's familiar face, Headmaster Figgins, James Potter. . ._

_ But mostly he just sees the Sorting Hat, sitting on its lone chair in the middle of the room. He watches as a short, proud looking boy walks forward. There's a broad smile on his face, and his caramel eyes are glittering. He sits down on the stool and puts on the Sorting Hat._

_ Suddenly Kurt isn't looking anymore, suddenly he doesn't just see the boy, but he is the boy. He's sitting on the stool. He's in the boy's head, and he's hearing the Sorting Hat's comments in his head._

_ "A family of Slytherins, all pure blood. But you don't belong there. You don't have half of your father's ambition, his pride. Perhaps Gryffindor would do, if you had an ounce of courage within you, but alas, no. Nor will Ravenclaw suit, with your below average intelligence. I suppose we'll place you in Hufflepuff, with the other rejects. . ."_

_ No, Kurt thinks, no, this isn't right, this isn't how the Sorting Hat thinks, this isn't how it talks. It's kind, and thoughtful. . .it isn't_

"Blaine. . ." he whispered.

_Swirls and now he's on the Hogwarts Express. He watches as students file on, one by one taking their seats. And then he sees himself, or a younger version of himself. It's his 1L year, he realizes. He's clutching his books to his chest, looking around frantically for his brother, or one of his brothers' friends, or anyone to help him. He stares critically at his hair, pressed forward and parted on the side, a young look that he's glad that he's outgrown._

_ He watches as he meets Rachel, as she drags him into a room with her and begins chatting. He remembers how it had elt, to meet someone, and instantly despise her, while simultaneously realizing that this is him, that this girl is who he would be with a vagina. He watches all of this with a sick feeling in his stomach, because he remembers this on his own, he knows what happens next._

_ And sure enough, he walks in. Huge and hulking, a seventh year with a hideously styled Mohawk and bulging forearms. "Hey, fags," he says with a sneer. Kurt straightens up, and stares out the window. He's not out yet, nobody knows, and this is why. Rachel, however, turns to look at the seventh year._

_ "Excuse me," she says, her voice high-pitched and irritating. "I'm a girl, and Kurt here is a boy. What would make you use that word? Regardless, it's very offensive. I have two gay dads and. . ."_

_ "Sorry," the seventh year cuts in. Rachel looks miffed at being interrupted. "I wasn't talking to you, JAP. This is all about homo explosion over there. Hey! Fag! I'm talking to you!"_

_ Young Kurt is still staring out the window. Kurt stares at the back of his head. He can't see it from here, but he knows that the younger version of himself is fighting back tears, trying desperately not to let it show. Go away, Young Kurt is praying, just go away and leave me alone, just leave me alone._

_ "Hey, Puck," Finn says, appearing suddenly in the door. "Who are you talking – oh, hi Kurt!"_

_ The seventh year snorts. "You know fairy boy?" he asks. Finn looks surprised, his eyes bugging out. Surprised and confused._

_ "Who. . .I don't. . .what. . ."_

_ Young Kurt whips around at the sound of his brother's voice. He peers at him, his eyes begging, but Finn doesn't know what to do, because Finn never knows. Puck just grins and raised his wand, pointing it at Young Kurt._

_ "How do you think buttboy would look if his hair was as flaming as everything else?"_

_ "Puck, I don't think. . ."_

_ Finn doesn't finish the sentence, however, because a short flurry of curly black hair is suddenly in front of both of them. Blaine is older than the year before, and he's grown into his looks more, the thickness of his eyebrows no longer eating his face, and the curls better managed. He pushes the wand out of Puck's hand._

_ "Leave him alone," he says forcefully, crossing his arms across his chest. "You know that Hogwarts doesn't approve of bullying."_

_ "Yeah?" Puck asks, leaning down so that they're at eye level. It looks ridiculous, and Kurt wonders once again how a second year Blaine, barely clearing five feet, was brave enough to take on a 6'2 seventh year. "Who's gonna stop me? You? What are you gonna do, Lamerson, go running to Daddy?"_

_ Kurt remembers what happens next. Blaine just quirks one eyebrow, and tells Puck to get lost. It's simple, and it's effective, and then he'll wink at Kurt and Rachel, grab Finn's arm, and they'll leave. It's elegant and confident, and Kurt will fall in love in that moment._

_ But that's not what happens here. Blaine's eyes fill with tears, and his lower lip trembles. _

_ No, Kurt thinks, no, this isn't how it happened, I remember, I remember. . ._

_ Blaine whimpers, and Finn tugs on Puck's arm. "Come on," he says. "Leave them alone, Puck, it's not worth it."_

_ The two of them walk away, and Blaine leaves a moment later, his shoulders slumped and quaking. He walks in the opposite direction of his best friend._

_ Kurt tries to sit up, tries to pull his head out of the Pensieve, because this is wrong, it's so wrong, these can't be Blaine's memories because he remembers this event, he remembers it, it's a central moment in his life and he knows he remembers it, and this is so, so wrong. . ._

"Blaine. . .Blaine, please, this isn't right, you _know_ this isn't right!"

_It's Christmas break, and Blaine is sitting at a table in the Great Hall, peering at a letter in his hand. Kurt can tell that there are other students around, but he can't see them, can't differentiate their faces. He leans over Blaine's shoulder and reads the letter._

_ Dear Blaine, going on a trip for Christmas, won't be home, enjoy your holiday at Hogwarts! Mumsie and Father_

_ The colors are shifting, and Kurt is suddenly inside the Hufflepuff common room He recognizes the warm cushions and bright fireplace from dropping Finn off. He sees Blaine, curled up before the fire, the letter still clutched in his right hand. This must be the Christmas of his fourth year, because that's the year that he started gelling his hair. Kurt is confused again. He knows that Blaine didn't go home for Christmas that year, knows that his parents were out of town, but he remembers walking downstairs in his father's home on Christmas Day. He always gets up early on Christmas, so that he can rewrap some of the most atrociously wrapped presents. Sometimes he adds ribbons, or prettily tied bows. But his third year, when he'd walked downstairs, he'd been surprised to hear voices. Finn was never awake this early – not even on Christmas – but it had definitely been Finn's voice. Except that there were two figures on the couch when Kurt arrived, one head bed-mussed and brown, the other darker in hue and carefully styled._

_ You weren't alone on Christmas, Kurt remembers. You weren't. . .Schuester took your memories, and he twisted them somehow. . ._

"Blaine, you don't believe this, you can't. . .

_It's the summer before fifth year, and Blaine is at his most beautiful. They're filled with worry as he rips open the envelope, and reads the words. Kurt wasn't there in this moment, he doesn't know if this memory is real or not, but he doesn't trust it, even as Blaine's eyes light up and he runs down the hallway._

_ "Father!" he calls, and his voice echoes down the cavernous halls that Kurt can't see. This memory is even more indistinct than the earlier ones, as though the mind can't remember or imagine what the house looked like. He's running, following after this Blaine, and then suddenly he isn't anymore. They're face to face with another man, an older, more distinguished version of Blaine, with straight hair and cold eyes. _

_ "Father," Blaine says, slightly out of breath. "I got it!"_

_ "Don't run in this house," Mr. Anderson says. Blaine nods a little, the smile drifting from his face._

_ "Sorry, Father," he says. "I just wanted to show you. I got the position. I'm a prefect."_

_ Blaine's father reaches down and grabs the letter from his son's hand. He reads it, his face impassive. "It says that David Thompson is transferring, and cannot be the prefect." His father says. Blaine just looks confused. "So you're the second choice?" his father asks. He crumples the letter up in his fist, mirroring the way that his son's face crumples. "Anderson's are never second best."_

_As his father turns and walks away, one perfect, poetic tear falls from Blaine's face._

"No!"

xxx

Kurt gasps as he hurtles away from the Pensieve, crawling backwards on hands and knees. He's getting his pants dirty, and he'll probably have grass stains on his hand, but right now he doesn't care. What Professor Schuester is doing is so wrong, is so twisted. . .he'd _trusted_ the teacher, and here he was, twisting memories that he had no right to even see.

Professor Schuester glanced over at him, but Blaine continued to kneel, motionless, staring into the Pensieve. Kurt takes a moment to collect his breath, before lunging forward. He grabs Blaine around the waist, and pulls him back, bringing his face out of the water. Blaine gasps, and begins sucking in air, his eyes closed tight. Kurt can't tell if the water on his face is from tears or just the water.

Schuester stood up, looking angrier than Kurt had ever seen him. "I like you, Kurt," he said, and his voice was almost regretful. "I do, really. But I need this wand, and Blaine is going to get it for me. I like you, but you need to stop getting in my way."

Kurt gulped, and glanced around frantically for his wand. He found it, finally, lying beside the pond. It must have fallen from his pocket when he'd launched himself backwards.

Schuester pointed his wand at Kurt's face.

"_Petrificus Totalus_."

**A/N: Uh-oh. MINDFUCK GAMES! So, with Kurt out of the picture, will Schuester be able to manipulate Blaine? Methinks so. . .with only two chapters to go, it's the FINAL COUNTDOWN! Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and alters. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**COMING SOON: The elder wand! Bum bum bum. . .ultimate power! Also, torture, death, and Grawp. That's right. . .Grawp is making an appearance! I love me some Grawp. . .**


	22. The Elder Wand

13:57

**A/N: So many clever reviewers, figuring out who James' girlfriend is! Anyway, that will come back next chapter, but for now, back to the craziness in the clearing! **

He felt trapped, encased in ice. He couldn't blink, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel his blood coursing through his veins or his heart beating. He'd never noticed those sensations before, but now that they were absent, he noticed.

His attention was quickly drawn back to the scene before him, however. Schuester still standing in the middle of the clearing, his shoulders quaking in soundless laughter. Blaine is still splayed back against the ground, his black curls clinging to his face. A flash of lightning illuminates them all.

Blaine glanced over at Kurt, his amber eyes wide and terrified. "Let him go," he said lowly. "You're a teacher, you can't attack us."

"Sing for me," Schuester pressed. "Give me the Elder wand and I'll let you both go."

No, Kurt thought. Don't do it. He'd grown up half in the Muggle world, after all, and he'd seen these kinds of movies. The villain always made empty promises, and the heroes always ended up dead. Blaine frowned, his thick eyebrows masking the hue of his eyes.

"You'll have to ask Mr. Potter for it," he said. "He put it away, not me. I'm just a student."

"Give. Me. The. Wand."

In that instant, Kurt wished he had taken Divination. A thousand scenarios flew through his head, of how this might go. Blaine might sing, he might not. Schuester might kill Kurt, he might not. He might threaten, cajole, plead, beg. . .but in all of the scenarios the ending was the same – Blaine ended up on the ground, silent and dead. Kurt pulled against his invisible restraints, but couldn't move. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his wand – not that it did him any good, when he couldn't move.

He thought about using wandless magic, but couldn't even move his tongue to form the words.

"I won't do it, Professor Schuester," Blaine said defiantly. "I'm sorry, but you might as well just let Kurt and me go. I'm not going to get it for you."

Something flashed in Schuester's eyes, and had Kurt been able to, he would have screamed, as their professor lifted his wand and pointed it at Blaine's chest.

"I didn't want to do this," he said. "You were always my favorite pupil, Blaine." He shook his head, almost regretfully, before pulling his lips back into a rictus of anger and shouting "_Crucio!_"

When Kurt was two, his goldfish, Bubbles, had died. He'd cried for an hour straght, until he'd become dehydrated, and his wet hiccups had dissolved in coughs. When he was eight, his mother had died, and he'd felt like an empty shell for years. When he was thirteen, his pet canary, Pavaoritti, had sung its last tune, and he'd been certain that he would never have a best friend again.

His mother's death had been bad – horrible – but it was so far in the past that it didn't effect him anymore, not in a way that made his heart pull and twinge and brought tears to his face.

This, in this moment, was worse than anything he'd experienced.

The force of the spell knocked Blaine off his feet, and threw him back against the ground. His head whipped back, tendons standing out in his neck. His eyes squeezed closed, black butterfly lashing digging into his cheeks in a way that looked almost painful. His hands clenched into the dirt, nails digging into grass and sticks, as his mouth opened in a hoarse scream that sounded like it had been ripped out of his throat.

Kurt could feel his heart beating again, pounding his chest and his head, threatening to leap out of his body and run to the boy thrashing on the ground. He tried to force himself forward, but nothing would move.

Schuester snarled and walked forward, advancing with his wand still trained on Blaine.

Blaine, who wasn't even screaming anymore, whose back was arching off the ground, as though getting off the ground would somehow free him from the pain. Kurt wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to throw himself in the way of the spell and take the pain ofn himself.

Abruptly, Schuester flicked his wrist, and Blaine falls to the ground. He begins panting, short little pathetic gulps of air. His eyes are still closed, his hands are still dug into the ground. Schuester shakes his head and kneels down beside the boy, an almost sympathetic expression on his face. He reached out, and almost tenderly brushed a sweaty curl off Blaine's face. Kurt snarled inside.

"There, now, that wasn't very pleasant, was it?" Schuester asked. Blaine didn't reply, just continued to gasp. Schuester shook his head. "You don't want to experience that again, do you?" The boy didn't respond, so the professor answered for him. "Of course you don't. Nobody wants to experience that spell. All you have to do is sing a song for me, Blaine. Just one, measley little song."

Blaine didn't respond for a long moment, until finally he croaked, something low and pained sounding, so broken sounding that Kurt couldn't even hear it at first. Apparently, Schuester couldn't, either.

"What was that?"

Blaine opened his eyes, for this first time since the spell. They were wet and red. Blaine's tongue flicked out, wetting down his lips. "No," he said.

"No," Schuester muttered under his breath, laughing a little, almost bitterly. "No, huh? Why?"

Blaine just shook his head. He pressed his forearms into the ground, trembling as he pushed himself partway up. He licked his lips again. "S'not right."

"Not right." Schuester shook his head, before walking over to Kurt, acknowledging him for the first time since cursing him. "Such a Hufflepuff, isn't he?" Kurt couldn't remember ever seeing their professor looking so dark and twisted. The lightning cast strange shadows on his fast, darkening his eyes and lighting up the hollows in his cheeks. "Loyal and honest and true. He couldn't be a Slytherin, all dark ambition, or a reckless Gryffindor, or a curious Ravenclaw. No, I get stuck with a _fucking_ loyal Hufflepuff." He paused for a moment, as though a thought had just occurred to him. Glancing back and forth between Kurt and Blaine, a slow smile lit up his face, twisting his features into something cruel. "Loyalty. . .hmm. . ."

He lifted the wand, twisting it a little before Kurt's eyes. "So, Blaine. . ." the professor said, drawing his voice out, twisting and shaping it along the width of the wand. "You didn't like that spell so much. . .How about if I used the same spell on your boyfriend, here?"

Blaine didn't say anything, but his eyes widened even more.

"Or maybe. . ." Schuester mused, tapping Kurt's forehead with the wand. "Maybe I should use another Unforgivable Curse."

_Avada kedavra_. Kurt's insides froze. For the first time he was glad that he'd been petrified, because otherwise he knew that he would have collapsed onto the ground, in a puddle of terror. The killing curse.

"No," Blaine gasped, forcing himself to his feet, even as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. "No. I'll do it. I'll do it."

If Kurt could have moved, he would have gasped as their professor moved away from him. He felt almost guilty at the intense sense of relief as the wand was taken away from his forehead. What kind of a Gryffindor was he? He was terrified, literally frozen in place while Blaine took this all on himself.

"Good," Professor Schuester said. "You remember the song?"

"I remember," Blaine sighed. He brushed the back of his hand against his eyes, pushing away tears. He set his feet apart, and began to sing, but it was unlike any performance that Kurt had ever seen. There was no confidence in the other boy, no strength or charisma, just pure pain and need and desperation.

"_Oh, it's turned so cold, it's past your bedtime_

_ You've played the day away and soon it will be night_

_ Come to me, wand, the light is fading_

_ Don't you see the evening star appearing?_

_ Come to me and rest against my shoulder. . ._"

His voice trailed off, as nothing happened. Professor Schuester nodded, as though he'd expected as much. "Keep going," he said. "Just keep singing. It might take a while."

Blaine nodded, took a deep breath, and began to sing again, this time his voice growing a little in strength and certainty.

He repeated the verse twice, before something started to happen. Kurt noticed it before their professor did: the other boy's eyes widened a little, and sweat broke out along his hairline. His fingers spasmed, held tightly at his side, and he dug his feet into the ground, as though trying to find better footing. Finally, he broke off midword, his chest heaving.

"What?" Schuester snapped. "It was working. Why did you stop?"

"Something's wrong," Blaine tried to explain hopelessly, his eyes focused on the ground. "Inside. . .the spell is. . .it's hurting me, it's tearing. . .I don't know how to explain it."

Schuester closed his eyes. "You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal, those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil. Harry Potter's idea, I'm sure. . .only a brave Gryffindor can touch the Godric's sword, and only a selfless soul can call the Elder wand." His eyes opened, almost glowing in the dim lighting. Kurt shivered, not a muscle moving, as the clouds broke above and the first raindrops began to fall. "Through the pain," Schuester hissed. "Or remember what happens."

Kurt almost missed the flick of the wand in his direction, so focused he was on Blaine's face, on the subtle twitches of muscle under the planes of his face.

"_Come to me. . ._"

With each verse, Blaine fell a little more apart. First he fell to his knees, but continued to sing, shoulders thrown back. On the fourth verse he gasped and almost lost the words. On the fifth he fell to the ground, bracing himself on his forearms, his back heaving as he fought for the strength to keep fighting.

_No_, Kurt thought desperately. _Stop. . .stop it. . ._ he tried to glare at Schuester, tired to plead with him to stop it. _Can't you see it's killing him_, he pleaded. And it was, he could tell, in the way that not a muscle was moving on Blaine, save those needed for singing. His head was down, by this time, forced to stare at the ground.

"Yes. . ." Schuester said, grinning. A glow had fallen over the clearing, even though the increasingly thick sheath of rain.

_No, please, no. . ._

_ "Don't you see the evening star appearing?_

_ Come to me and rest against my shoulder. . ."_

Somehing snapped. It happened at once, Blaine collapsing to the ground, and the glow coalescing into a single, long piece of wand, lying on the ground. Kurt's gaze was drawn to it – a simple, long piece of eldar tree. Black and straight. Not twisted or evil, or particularly powerful. Just. . .a wand. And more importantly, beside it, Blaine's motionless body. Kurt felt the blood rushing through his veins. Was the spell wearing off? He tried to move his lips, his tongue, but still had no control over his emotions.

Schuester grinned and walked forward, picking up the wand and twisting it in his hands. He ran one finger up and down its length, shivering in delight. He flicked his wrist, pointing it down at Blaine.

_Expelliarmus_, Kurt thought, focusing on the word, twisting it in his mind the same way he would with his lips and tongue. Nothing happened.

"Now, then," Schuester murmured. "To be it's master, I must win it from it's previous master. So. . ."

_Expelliarmus!_

Schuster flicked his wrist, muttered softly under his breath a simple Stunning spell. So far as Kurt could see, nothing happened. But for all he knew, Blaine was dead and couldn't respond. Blaine was. . .but no. He couldn't think about that, not right now.

"Hmm. . ." Schuster mused. "A stunning spell won't work." He shrugged. "Sorry, Blaine Anderson," he said. "I really thought it wouldn't come to this, but I have to be the master of this wand. So. . . _Avada_. . ."

_ACCIO ELDER WAND!_

Later, Kurt didn't know why he'd thought it, why he'd flung all of his energy into _that_ spell, but he did. And the result was instantaneous. The elder wand flew out of Schuester's hand, directly into Kurt's. His paralysis shattered. And suddenly, without Kurt doing or thinking anything, the professor was suddenly lifted into the air, his arms bound to his side, as though by invisible bonds.

For his part, Kurt flew across the clearing to kneel beside Blaine. He reached out with shaking hands, placing them gently on his boyfriend's back, praying for a response.

He'd taken his magical history classes. He understood the spell – it had to be the same type that Headmaster Dumbledore and Harry Potter had met in Voldemort's cave. A poison protecting an artifact. But Dumbledore hadn't died, not then, and Blaine couldn't. . .he wouldn't. . .

But there was no movement under Kurt's questing fingertips. Blaine was frighteningly clammy. He rolled the other boy over, so that Blaine was lying on his back, facing up. With shaking fingertips, Kurt caressed the other boy's cheek.

He looked so peaceful, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. His hair was still stuck to his forehead, wet curls plastered against cool skin. Kurt gasped as he felt a ghost of a breath against his fingertips.

"Wake up," he half-whispered, half-prayed. "Please just wake up." In that clearing, at that moment, nothing mattered except seeing hazel eyes with flecks of gold and green. Professor Schuester, still suspended midair, didn't matter. The elder wand didn't matter. The Triwizard Tournament didn't matter, Blais Zabini and Coach Syvester didn't matter, none of it mattered at all if those eyelids didn't twitch and tremble open. "Please wake up."

There was a warmth in his hand, the elder wand jerking a little, as if on its own accord. And then, incredibly, magically, Blaine opened his eyes.

"Wha—" it was the tiniest, most delicate of sounds, the whisper of rose petals opening to dawn. Kurt leaned forward and greedily swallowed the noise into his own mouth. He tasted fear and sweat in his boyfriend's kiss, and he swallowed that in, too.

"What the. . ." Schuester broke the moment, thrashing from where he was still held in the air. "How did you. . .that's my wand! How can _you_ control it?"

Kurt thought back to that moment in the dorm, only hours ago, though it felt like a lifetime. Hiding under the Invisibility cloak, casting a wandless spell. "You have to defeat the wand's true master. . ." he breathed.

"I did!" Schuester protested. "I did, I did, I did!" His words were manic and insane.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked breathlessly, reaching up one hand, stopping just short of touching Kurt's cheek. He choked out a breathless laugh.

"Am _I _okay?" Kurt asked. He glanced down bashfully. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's get you back to the hospital and let Madame Pomfrey fix you up." He stood up carefully, helping the other boy to his feet as well, feeling a little sick at the way that the other boy clung to him, resting his weight on Kurt's slight frame.

"Wait. . ." Blaine said, his features twisted in confusion. "What about Professor Schuester."

"He won't be going anywhere," Kurt said coldly and with great certainty. He could feel, in the back of his mind, the binds surrounding their professor, the way that he was trapped.

"I thought. . .I thought you can't Apparate onto school grounds."

Kurt grinned, and lifted the elder wand. "Do not underestimate me, Mr. Anderson," he grinned. "I'm pretty sure that with this I can do anything."

Sure enough, with a twist and spin, and the accompanying dizzying sensation, the two found themselves in the middle of the Hogwarts courtyard, with all of the assembled students and teachers staring at them.

"You can't Apparate on school grounds," Rose said stuffily.

"Kurt, Blaine!" Rachel exclaimed, leaping forward and catching them both in a massive hug. "Did you hear, did you? I'm the Triwizard Champion! Blaine, didn't you think that the Final Task was surprisingly easy, given all of the buildup and anticipation? Really, I expected more out of the final task, though I suppose. . ."

Her words trailed off as another figure pushed through the crowd. Tall and commanding, with dark hair swept off his face and streaked through with silver, the man was headed straight toward them. Kurt took a moment to appreciate the man's sense of fashion – he was wearing a simple suit, but it was exquisitely tailored and made out of fine silk. There was something familiar in the set of his chin, in the focus of his honey eyes.

"Blaine," the man said, his deep rumble of a voice sounding choked and hoarse. Blaine stiffened in Kurt's arms, his eyes widening, before falling forward into the stranger's open arms.

"Father," he gasped.

Of course, Kurt thought ruefully. Mr. Anderson would come to see his son in the final task. In the same way that he could see Rachel Berry's dads standing in the background, and a pair of distinguished looking blondes that had to be Quinn Fabray's parents. Even Dave Karofsky was surrounded by a group of menacing looking men who could only be his brothers. Only Jesse st. James stood alone.

"Dude," Finn breathed, coming up and standing beside Kurt. "What happened to you? You were singing and then you just, like disappeared."

"Are you okay? Sam asked. "Is Blaine okay? He looks kind of. . ."

There were a thousand other questions being shouted, whispered, and asked, but they were all cut up when there was a sudden whoosh of wind and Harry Potter landed in the courtyard, dismounting smoothly from his broomstick. In three short strides he was standing beside Kurt Hummel, and peering down at the thin, black piece of wood still tightly clenched in his fist.

"Mr. Hummel," Harry Potter said, his words tight and composed. "I think we need to have a bit of a talk."

**A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER! Can you believe it? I can't. This is the longest fanfic that I've written. Phew. Oh, Hogwarts, you pull one in and just don't let one go!**

**COMING SOON: Grawp, next chapter! Yay for Grawp! Also, what does Blaine's dad think of this whole situation, will James ever let his dad know who he's getting some nooky with, is Karofsky done being psycho, and will Kurt now be the MOST POWERFUL WIZARD ALIVE? Also, Finchel fluff, a little Quam delight, some Brittana mischief, and most of all. . .CLOSURE. Stay tuned. **


	23. Hogwarts

13:57

**A/N: And. . .the end! Don't love the ending, but, meh, it's an ending. MASSIVE CHEESE. Be warned. Thanks so much for all of the support throughout the writing of this. There was a long hiatus, multiple meh chapters, and two accidental misuploads. Still, we made it through! So thanks again! **

Harry Potter was in full-on diva mode. Kurt knew, because he was familiar to this modus operandi himself. So when the war hero put a hand around his upper arm and began towing him through the crowd, he knew enough to just follow. He had to swallow back a grunt of displeasure when the Boy Who Lived and Then Died and Then Live Again also grabbed Blaine, but one shot of angry green eyes closed his lips again.

They walked briskly, past the throng of students. When Headmaster Figgins bustled over, Mr. Potter just glared until he backed off. Kurt, admittedly, was not used to such strenuous exercise, and was panting a little by they time they finally stopped, just inside the first arches to the school. He could hear Blaine panting slightly as well.

"Okay," Harry Potter said sharply. "Explain."

Before Kurt even had a chance to begin to talk, the older man reached out and grabbed the elder wand from his hand. "And give me that back."

"Well excuse me," Kurt huffed, crossing his arms.

Harry Potter just raised an eyebrow.

"Professor Schuester played us," Kurt said finally. "He switched the goblets to make sure that Jesse ended up back here, instead of in the trap."

Harry Potter nodded sagely. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted him," he mused. "He had enough grease in his hair to power the Ford Anglia."

"Right. . ." Kurt shook his head, and tried to catch Blaine's eye. Except that it proved impossible, since Blaine was staring at the ground, kind of listing to one side. His right arm was wrapped around his stomach, as though in pain. Kurt instantly walked over to him, and slid an arm around the other boy's waist. Mr. Potter cleared his throat impatiently.

"He wanted the wand for himself. He said that he only wanted it so that he could be a singer. He wanted Blaine to summon it for him."

"Blaine is good at Magical Lyricism?"

"The best," Kurt said fondly, pressing a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's earlobe.

"Merlin's beard," Mr. Potter cursed. "He was the one who suggested hiding it like that, so that such a Summoning would work. Still, you boys should have known better than to do what he said."

Blaine jerked at that. Kurt himself stiffened, and his eyes flashed.

"What do you know?" he spat out. "You ignorant Neanderthal! He _tortured_ Blaine. He used the Unforgiveable Curse, and Blaine _still_ wouldn't summon it. How dare you, how dare you, how dare you!"

"Kurt, stop," Blaine whispered.

"No," Kurt said. He hugged Blaine's shivering body even closer. "Then he threatened _me_. He was going to. . .he was going to. . ."

The world fell out from beneath him as he remembered, yet again, how terribly, horribly close he'd come to dying that night. The world began to black out around him, and the only solid thing that he could cling to was Blaine's warmth.

"I'm sorry," Harry Potter's voice was disembodied, vague and quiet. "I should have known. . .only a true Hogwarts Champion could summon it. . .I'm sorry. But we still have the problem of what to do with the wand."

"You take it," Blaine said. Kurt could feel both of their arms wrapped around one another, and realized that the world was only black now because his eyes were closed. "We don't want anything to do with it."

"It doesn't work like," Mr. Potter sighed. "It will still be yours. I would have to defeat Kurt."

"Go ahead," Kurt muttered, his words muffled against his boyfriend's skin. "Just disarm me. I don't want anything to do with it."

He heard a muffled "Expelliarmus." Followed by "see you at the feast." He shuddered a little.

"Shhh," Blaine said soothingly. "It's okay. It's over. You're safe."

"I love you," Kurt gasped, squeezing his eyes even tighter together. He tasted salt on his lips. "I love you so much. And I was so, so scared. . ."

"It's okay," Blaine whispered again, his breath lifting the hair around Kurt's ear. "It's all okay, now. We'll go back and congratulate Rachel on her win, and ignore Jesse st. James' death glares, and eat a feast."

Kurt nodded. "Okay," he said finally. He lifted his head and finally opened his eyes. "But just so you know. . .I'd better not see you at that Feast until you've been looked over in the infirmary."

Blaine grinned, his eyes twinkling despite the deep bags under them, the creases at their sides. "I promise," he said.

xxx

The Great Hall was completely done up for the final feast of the tournament. The ceiling had been magicked to perfectly mirror the early spring weather outside, with crystal clear sparkling stars. Unfortunately, being done up also meant that silver and green banners were dangling from arches, and matching tablecloths covered all of the tables. Being partial to maroon and gold himself, Kurt was kind of annoyed by the overt display of Slytherin pride.

Rachel, of course, was beside herself. She was seated at the head table, sandwiched between her two dads. Headmaster Figgins had promised that she would have an opportunity to make an acceptance speech later in the night, and ever once and a while she would gasp and furiously write something on a pad of paper she kept beside her (covered in gold stars, of course).

The rest of the students are spaced out at throughout the tables. There's no House divide tonight, not after Harry Potter explained what had gone on. Granted, there are very few Slytherins at the Gryffindor table, but the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are spread all over, and the Beauxbatons girls are happily flirting with all of the boys, while the Durmstrang boys still sat by themselves.

Finn was unhappily plunked beside Kurt, resting his chin on his hand and sighing every once and a while, gazing adoringly at Rachel. He'd been like that ever since Rachel had blown him off to hug Blaine. Since then he had followed Kurt back to the Gryffindor room, and sat on Hugo's bed while Kurt changed into appropriate dress robes. He'd only eaten three chicken legs and a dozen treacle tarts since arriving at the feast.

"She's way too good for me," Finn sighed for the third time. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Hey, guys!" Sam said enthusiastically, sliding onto the bench opposite them, and tugging Quinn alongside him. Kurt watched curiously. When the Beauxbatons girls have first arrived, he wouldn't have, in a million years, been able to imagine her giggling while being pulled down onto a bench, especially if she were being tugged by trouty-mouthed Sam, with unbrushed hair and appalling fashion sense. Then again, he thought, a lot of things had changed.

"Hi, Sam," Finn sighed. Quinn cleared her throat, and Kurt realized abruptly just how over the pretty girl his half-brother was. "Oh, hi, Quinn."

Quinn just glanced over at Rachel, a strange little half-smile on her face. Kurt just sighed again. The feast was very nice and all, but what he really wanted was for Blaine and his father to return. Or, at the very least, for Mercedes to show up. All of the other students were excited and celebrating, but he just didn't feel like it much. He couldn't get the memory of being frozen, unable to move, the picture of Blaines' face contorted in pain, the silent screaming, out of his mind. He doubted somewhat that he ever would.

There were a pair of empty seats at the head table: neither Professor Schuester nor Blais Zabini were seated in their traditional seats.

Kurt closed his eyes, leaned forward and rested his head on his forearms. A heavy hand clapped him on the back.

"I know how you feel, dude."

But Finn didn't. Nobody did, nobody who wasn't in that clearing.

"Oh, there you are."

At first, Kurt assumed that Figgins had just accidently amplified his voice, without any intention of doing so. But when the Headmaster ontinued to speak in his overly enunciated manner, he realized that it was intentional, and lifted his head wearily. "Harry Potter! Mr. Harry Potter! To the head table, please!"

Kurt's eyes widened. Standing in the entrance to the great hall was not only Harry Potter, but also James, and beside him, Mercedes. No, not just beside him. . .Kurt's eyes trailed down James' arm, to where his fingers interlocked with Mercedes. He was pretty sure that his chin hit the table.

"I didn't know that Mercedes was dating James," Finn muttered.

"Me, neither," Kurt admitted, continuing to watch with wide eyes as the two made their way to the Gryffindor table. He knew his best friend very well, but he'd never seen this expression on her face before: her mouth kept tightening and twitching as though she were trying to fight back a smile. She kept glancing sideways at James. For his part, he couldn't seem to keep from smiling, green eyes sparkling.

"Mercedes, boo. . ." Kurt said as the two sat down. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting a little sumthin-sumthing?"

"Okay, one," Mercedes said, holding up a finger, "you are neither black enough, nor gay enough to say sumthin-sumthing. And two. . .I tried to tell you, but you were so caught up in the competition. . ."

Kurt felt like hitting himself on the forehead. Looking back on it, he could remember all of those moments when she had tried to tell him something, and he'd blown her off for Blaine, or for Rachel, or for spying on people from secret tunnels underneath the Forbidden Forest.

"It's okay," Mercedes said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm happy, now. Isn't that the important thing?"

Kurt smiled at that, what felt like his first smile of the day. "Yeah," he said, nodding a little. "Yeah, it is."

Finn stood up, nearly knocking over his plate of food (though Kurt noted that he somehow managed to balance it on the edge of the table.). "You're right." He said, nodding his head. "Being happy is the most important thing."

"Oh, no," Kurt whispered. He exchanged a mortified glance with Mercedes, who just gripped James' hand even tighter. "Finn, don't. . ."

But his half-brother, who didn't listen to reason in even the best of circumstances, seemed even less inclined to listen now. Instead, he stalked to the front of the room, until he was standing directly in front of the head table. "Rachel Berry, I love you." He said. Rachel gasped and stop talking, mid-sentence. Her hands fluttered up to cover her mouth, but even over the tips of her fingernails, her cheeks could be seen to glow a bright red.

"I love you," Finn said again. "And I know that you're, like, a Champion now, and I'm just this random guy, but I love you. And I'm going to prove it to you."

Kurt was pretty sure that this wouldn't be necessary under normal circumstances. In fact, he was certain that it normally wouldn't be, since he had been forced to listen to Rachel expound upon his brother's many "amazing" qualities more than once over the course of their friendship, and over the course of the year for that matter. As it was, however, it appeared that Finn's surprise declaration had struck her speechless, which was a miracle in itself.

Finn, however, had never been terribly empathetic. So, instead of recognizing that the tears welling up in Rachel's eyes were of supreme joy, Finn clearly saw them as. . .well, Finn probably didn't see them at all. Instead, he just cleared his throat, spread his arms, and took in a deep breath.

"_Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going anywhere. . ."_

Seriously? Kurt wondered. How was this a romantic song at all? Rachel, however, perked up immediately, her hands dropping from her mouth, and her lips pulled back into a broad smile. She opened her mouth and began to sing along.

"_Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit, he took the midnight train going anywhere. . ._

_ "Ba-dum!"_ Sam, Artie, and Mike sang, standing up.

"_Singer in a smoky room, smell of wine and cheap perfume, for a smile they could share the night it goes on and on and on and on. . ." _Kurt whipped his head to the side, amazed to see Jesse standing on the table, singing now. Even more surprising was when Karofsky stood up beside him, singing in an unsettlingly pleasant bass, "_strangers, waiting, up and down the boulevard, there's shadows searching in the night."_

By the chorus, it seems like everybody in the hall was singing along, and even Kurt found himself joining in, his cheeks hurting a bit as he smiled. He wasn't ashamed to admit that most of the reason he was grinning was because of the way that Finn and Rachel kept staring at one another, as though the rest of the room didn't exist, the way that Mercedes and James were holding hands the entire time, and the way that Sam and Quinn kept bumping shoulders and hips.

He didn't think that Finn had intentionally invoked any Magical Lyricism, but then again his half-brothers' control over his magic had always been tenuous at best. Regardless, there was no doubt that the song had lifted the spirits of everybody in the hall, and Kurt felt intense stirrings of hope deep within his breast.

Midsong, while everyone else was still singing and faling madly in love, Kurt felt his gaze suddenly pulled to the back of the hall. Two figures were standing there, though Kurt's eyes fell unwaveringly on the shorter figure. Blaine and his father stared into the hall, obviously surprised by the sudden outbreak of song. As Kurt watched, however, Blaine's lips twitched, and then slowly lifted into a smile. Even smiling, he looked exhausted, deep shadows under his eyes, and lines Kurt had never noticed etched across his forehead. Mr. Anderson had one hand placed supportively on his son's shoulder. They walked in together. Blaine started to head toward the Gryffindor table, but Mr. Anderson steered them left instead, so that they were sitting with the Hufflepuffs.

When the song ended all of the students clapped, except for Finn and Rachel, who were still standing and staring at one another. Finn's hands were clenched, and his chest was heaving.

"Yes," Rachel gasped, holding her hands tightly to her chest, as though clasped in prayer. "Yes, Finn Hudson, I _will_ marry you!"

Finn's mouth gaped open. "Wait. . .what?"

Kurt snickered. Figgins chose that moment to rush forward.

"Er. . .yes. . .no marriage between any witches or wizards under the age of seventeen."

"I'll wait!" Rachel yelled fiercely. Finn just walked back to his seat and collapsed into it.

"What just happened?" he asked. Kurt snickered again.

"Congratulations on your impending nuptials," he whispered. Finn just blinked at him.

"Now then," Figgins said, clearing his throat. "We have already declared Ms. Rachel Berry the Triwizard Tournament, but we have another announcement today."

Kurt straightened up. He was always interested in change from the norm.

Figgins snapped his fingers, and Coach Beiste walked over to him, holding a massive trophy that dwarfed Rachel's for winning the tournament. Kurt glanced at Mercedes and lifted an eyebrow.

"As many of you know. Lord Voldemort almost returned today. . ."

"No," Harry Potter said, standing up and waving his arms over the startled outbursts of the students. "No, he didn't. Ignore him. Voldemort is dead."

"Fortunately, he was stopped by two of our brave students," Figgins continued, as though he hadn't been interrupted. "For demonstrating the loyalty and integrity that are staples of the Hufflepuff House, for displaying the bravery and tenacity of a Gryffindor, for employing the wisdom and intelligence of a Ravenclaw the Special Award for Services to the School is awarded to Mr. Blaine Anderson."

Kurt was the first one on his feet, furiously clapping his hands and grinning so widely that it hurt. He spun around to face his boyfriend. Mr. Anderson wore a tight smile and was clapping faithfully. Blaine just looked shellshocked. Across the crowded room he caught Kurt's eye. He looked confused, and a little scared.

Figgins cleared his throat. "Also, for keeping a cool head and using the logic of a Ravenclaw, for actions as cunning as a Slytherin and reckless as a Gryffindor, and with the love of a Hufflepuff, this award is also given to Mr. Kurt Hummel."

Kurt's legs gave out. His knees buckled, and he would have fallen to the ground if Finn hadn't tightly gripped him beneath the elbow. Kurt couldn't believe it. He hadn't done anything. . .he had disarmed a war hero while wearing an invisibility cloak, and accidently called for a wand that didn't even belong to him. Blaine was the one who had been courageous, Blaine was the one who had saved the Elder wand. The world was spinning above him.

Vaguely, he could hear the students in the hall chanting for a speech, and Figgins asking for silence.

"Young men," he said, five times before everyone had quieted down enough for the headmaster to continue. "Young men, you two have demonstrated the finest qualities that Hogwarts could ever ask for. You faced great adversity tonight, and pulled through it with a strength that few adult wizards ever could. Hogwarts has always had a tradition of Houses, and House competitions, but tonight, you two young men proved that it is the marriage of these qualities, the combination of characteristics and traits, that make for a great wizard.

"You two did not live tonight because Kurt was a brave Gryffindor, or Blaine an honest Hufflepuff. You survived because you are both Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins."

Kurt gasped. The air felt thick and hot. It was the most eloquent that he had ever heard the Headmaster, but he still couldn't connect it to him. He was just Kurt Hummel – moderately decent student, snarky attitude, _fabulous_ dresser. He wasn't. . .he wasn't popular, or a Quidditch player, or the top of his class, or a prefect, or a hero. He was just plain old Kurt Hummel.

"Kurt. . .Kurt. . .are you okay?"

He glanced up. The air cooled down, the claustrophobia retreated, and the warmth that he'd felt while the hall was singing returned. Because he was staring up at Blaine. Kind, brave Blaine, who looked beyond exhausted and pain.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm okay."

Together they walked up to the head table. Even Rachel was grinning and clapping, surprisingly not disappointed by losing a moment of spotlight. Figgins handed them his magic wand and stepped back.

"Hi," Blaine said softly, his voice cracking a little. "I'm not very good at talking about my feelings. I'm much better at singing them." Several of the students laughed in the audience. Even Blaine laughed a little. "But, um. . .I just want . . .I want to say something."

A silence fell over the hall, and even in his state of confusion, Kurt could appreciate that only Blaine Anderson could cause a silence so profound that he could hear the gentle tread of the house elves feet in the kitchen. Blaine turned to Kurt, and in a voice that was melted butter, half-whispered, "I love you."

Figgins jumped forward and wrenched the wand out of Blaine's hand. "No more marriage proposals!" he gasped.

Kurt ignored him, and turned to Blaine.

"I love you, too."

Nothing was solved that night. Professor Schuester's trial was still pending. Jesse st. James was still plotting revenge. James and Mercedes would struggle with a balance between a comfortable relationship, and the surveillance of the paparazzi. Quinn had to go back to Beauxbatons, and Sam had to stay at Hogwarts. Finn was still a hopeless oaf, and Rachel was as loud and irritating as ever. Mr. Anderson was cold and distant. Figgins was ineffective, and the rest of the teaching staff wasn't much better. But in that one moment, with hazel eyes trained on his, tired as they were, the world was perfect.

**A/N: No Grawp. I lied. I really wanted to put in Grawp, but failed. Perhaps I'll go through and edit this final chapter, and add Grawp.**

**Please, check out some of my other stories! Beyond the End and Building Bridges are my personal favorites. . .yay for AUs. Also, look for new updates of Concrete Jungle, my only future, canon fic, in which Brittana and Klainchel are in NYC. And thanks again for reading. It's been a trip! **


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